VICE  and  VIRTUE 


A   STORY 
OF  OUR  TIMES 


id 


By 
WILLIAM  GLEESON 


518  So.  Morgan  St. 

August  1,  1913. 
The  author's  edition  of 

"VICE  AND  VIRTUE,  A  STORY  OF  OUR  TIMES" 

is  Hmited  to  1000  copies,  and  has  been  pubHshed  by  the 
author  at  the  request  of  a  number  of  his  friends,  both  lay 
and  clerical,  some  of  whom  have  read  abstracts  from  the 
original  manuscript.  Like  all  authors,  he  hopes  it  will  go 
through  many  editions,  and  have  a  place  on  the  library  shelves 
of  many  of  our  leading  citizens  whose  knowledge  of  social 
conditions  may  be  improved  by  its  perusal. 

It  is  an  old  saying,  and  a  true  one,  "That  one-half  the  world 
don't  know  how  the  other  half  lives."  We  hope  to  enlighten 
them  on  some  of  the  conditions  and  abuses  of  modern  society. 

January  1st,  1915. 
P.  S. — As  stated  above  the  Author's  Edition  was  limited  to  1,000 
copies  which  is  now  in  circulation  and  has  been  read  and  favorably 
commented  upon  by  hundreds  of  the  best  thinkers  in  the  country — men 
in  the  highest  stations  in  life,  both  lay  and  clerical.  It  has  served  its 
purpose  and  admittedly  done  more  to  arouse  public  protest  against  the 
evils  it  was  the  author's  aim  to  expose  and  hold  up  for  condemnation 
than  have  the  thousands  of  sermons  and  million  of  pamphlets  on  the 
same  subject.  

Copyright  1913 
By  William  Gleeson 


Copyright  applied  for 
Great  Britain  and  Canada 


.\11  Rights  Reserved 


GrVJ^OfD 


AUTHOR    OF 


"A  National  Highway" 

"Sunshine  and  Shadow" 

"The  Modern  White  Slave 


Cll0tttrnt0 


Preface. 
Prologue. 

Chapter  Page 

1  Holy  Family  Church  and   Surroundings 1 

2  Workingman's    Headquarters 6 

3  A  Brawl  and  a  Tragedy 12 

4  Facing  the  World 22 

5  The    Morgue :]0 

6  Dead  But  Not  Forgotten :5T 

7  The    Funeral 47 

8  The  Alderman  ,)9 

9  Scully  Announces  His  Departure 64 

10  Tony  Murphy's  New  Home 72 

1 1  Scully  Goes  West 81 

12  Tony  Gets  a  New  Outfit 93 

13  A  Business  Meeting 101 

14  Denver    110 

15  A  Sunshiny  Morning  With  a  Cloudy  Afternoon 124 

16  Working  a  Sucker 130 

17  The  Great  Cleveland   Store 137 

18  A  Friend  in  Need 145 

19  John  Monroe's  Story 155 

20  The  Wild  and  Woolly  W^est 163 

21  Grand  Reception  and  Ball  of  the  "Rig  Five" 174 

22  The  Green  Room 185 

23  The  Ranch   191 

24  Mike  Scully,  Cowboy 204 

25  The  Spider  and  the  Fly 213 

26  A  Fight  to  a  Finish 226 


Chapter  Page 

27  The  Wolf  and  the  Lamb 235 

28  Scully  in  Bad  and  Good 250 

20     Florence  in  a  Bad  Light 262 

'M     Mrgie  ]\ronroe  Makes  Amends  to  Scully 274 

31  Florence  Learns  a  Thing  or  Two 289 

32  Miss  Monroe,  Diplomat 305 

33  Florence  Burdett  Enters   Society 317 

34  A  Quiet  Wedding 329 

35  Florence  Burdett's   Progress  in   Society 337 

36  Monroe  Township    350 

37  The  Primer  Class 362 

38  The  Abduction 371 

39  The  Affinity ^388 

40  A  Montana  Election 399 

41  The  High  School 408 

42  A  Synopsis 417 

43  The  Graduates 422 

44  The  St.  Lawrence 432 

45  The  Accident 440 

46  Reqitiescat  in  Pace 452 

47  Remorse  and  Retribution 464 

48  The  Robbery 470 

49  An  Important  Capture 482 

50  Mike  Scully  Meets  Florence  Burdett 492 

51  Preparing  the  Defense 501 

52  Herman  Wosta  Gets  a  Shock 513 

53  The  Trial  of  Florence  Burdett 520 

54  The   Prosecution 527 

55  The    Defense 540 

56  The  Close  of  the  Case 556 

57  The  \'erdict   579 

58  Au    Revoir 586 

59  Fincm  Respice     594 


3IUw0tratton0 

Frontispiece. 

Rev.  A.  J.  Damen,  S.J 2 

The  Brawl  15 

Scully  Announces  His  Departure 66 

"You  Are  My  Prisoner" 137 

A  Modern  Gladiator 383 

A  Tale  of  Woe .373 

The  Happy  Family 403 

A  Rash  Act  425 

Retribution : 469 

Awaiting  the  Verdict 580 

Holy  Family  Church . 593 

"I  Can  Not  Be  Happy  Without  You" 600 


PREFACE 
To  Our  Readers — 

The  author  of  "A  Story  of  Our  Times"  lays  no  claim  to  any 
special  literary  ability,  but  to  merely  "a  round,  unvarnished 
tale  deliver" — descriptive  of  scenes,  characters,  and  conditions, 
such  as  may  be  found  in  any  of  the  large. cities  of  the  United 
States. 

Those  chapters  that  portrav  what  is  vile  in  our  present 
society  can  find  a  duplicate  in  any  of  our  morning  or  evening 
papers,  whose  records  of  murders, ,  robberies,  rape,  drunken 
brawls,  dishonest  public  officials,  tough  saloons  and  the  doings 
of  vicious  men  and  woinen,  are  of  daily  mention  without  any 
special  significance,  only;  as  mere  items  of  news. 

Michael  Scully,  the  hero  of  our  story,  even  in  the  worst 
period  <of  his  career,  had  noble  traits  in  his  character  that 
would  ever  come  to  the  surface;  brave  and  generous,  he  was 
susceptible  of  higher  ideals  than  were  those  among  whom, 
through  environment,  his  lot  was  cast,  so  that  when  circum- 
stances, which  led  him  into  communication  with  Father  Nolan, 
arose,  they  awoke  the  early  teachings  of  his  Christian  mother, 
which  had  long  lain  dormant,  and  kindled  afresh  the  spark  of 
righteousness  within  him  so  that  be.  resolved  to  enter  ihto  a 
new  life. 

Owen  Hooligan,  a  selfish,  sordid,  hero-worshiping  groggery 
keeper — how  many  of  his  kind  are  still  to  be  found  this  side  of 
Hades  we  leave  our  readers  to  judge.  New  York,  Chicago, 
Philadelphia,  Boston,  and  every  big  city  in  the  country  has  an 
abundance  of  his  type. 

(lii) 


Alderman  Great  might  just  as  well  have  been  named  Alder- 
man Graft.  And  if  there  are  not  men  of  his  type,  whose  chief 
aim  in  seeking  public  office  is  to  sell  the  people's  substance  to 
corporations  who  are  prepared  to  purchase  them,  then  the 
criminal  records  of  nearly  every  city  in  the  country,  from  New 
York  to  San  Francisco,  are  guilty  of  malicious  libel. 

Florence  Burdett  and  Tony  Murphy  were  both  victims  of 
eircumstances,  neither  of  tliem  inherently  bad,  though  both 
charged  with  murder.  The  other  characters  in  our  story  are 
types  of  men  and  women,  such  as  one  may  meet  in  every  day 
life.  The  author  has  not  tried  to  exaggerate,  but  to  keep  well 
within  the  bounds  of  every  day  occurrences.  How  he  has 
succeeded  he  leaves  to  those  who  do  him  the  honor  of  reading 
bis  book  to  judge,  hoping  they  may  find  food  for  thought, 
but  of  much  more  importance,  a  moral  and  a  lesson  in  it  that 
will  arouse  in  the  minds  of  many  an  antagonism  to  abuses  in 
society — conditions  that  we  are  often  too  apt  to  condone. 
With  regards, 

J  am,  yours  very  sincerely, 

William  Gleeson. 


PROLOGUE 

About  the  time  of  the  close  of  the  war  of  the  rebellion,  there 
resided  on  the  South  Side  of  Chicago,  a  German  family  by 
the  name  of  Wosta.  Mrs.  Wosta  was  a  very  delicate  woman. 
They  had  four  children,  two  boys  and  two  girls. 

On  account  of  the  mother's  feeble  condition  nearly  the  whole 
labor  of  housekeeping  was  thrown  on  their  first-born,  Mary, 
who  from  the  time  she  was  able,  assumed  the  burthen  willingly, 
cheerfully.  Herman,  named  after  his  father,  was  some  five 
years  her  junior. 

When  Mary  Wosta  was  about  20  years  old,  Henry  Burdett 
made  the  acquaintance  of  the  family,  and  wooed  and  won 
the  daughter,  which  was  satisfactory  to  Mary's  parents,  who 
looked  upon  Henry  Burdett  as  a  young  man  of  excellent  char- 
acter, who  would  make  their  daughter  a  fitting  mate. 

The  wedding  of  the  young  couple  was  a  very  joyous  event. 
John  Long,  foreman  in  the  foundry  where  Henry  worked, 
stood  up  for  him.  and  in  a  speech  delivered  on  the  occasion, 
paid  a  high  tribute  to  the  bridegroom  as  a  man  and  a  friend. 

Mary  Maloney,  a  widow  with  whom  Henry  had  boarded  for 
some  two  years,  endorsed  John  Long's  eulogy  of  "her  boy 
Henry,"  as  she  called  him,  and  went  so  far  as  to  say  Mary 
Wosta  was  a  lucky  girl  to  get  him. 

Henry  Burdett  had  saved  some  money,  so  that  the  young 
couple  immediately  went  housekeeping,  renting  a  cottage  on  a 
little  street  between  35th  and  36th,  a  short  way  west  of  Hal- 
sted  street. 

Mary's  experience  in  housekeeping  proved  valuable,  so  that 
in  a  brief  time  they  had  an  ideal  home. 

Henry,  a  steady,  home-loving  husband,  set  about  cultivating 
a  garden  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  so  that  ere  the  summer  was 
over,  it  was  a  bower  of  roses. 

It  was  less  than  a  year  after  their  wedding,  when  their  cup 
of  joy  was  filled  to  overflowing  by  the  birth  of  a  baby  girl — 

<v) 


Vi  PROLOGUE 

a  little  blue-eyed  angel,  as  Mary  Maloney  called  it,  while 
Mrs.  Sloan,  a  woman  who  had  nursed  Mary  when  she  was  a 
little  child,  and  who  now  danced  attendance  on  her  when  a 
mother,  said  it  was  the  dead  image  of  its  faiher.  This  asser- 
tion brougiit  a  smiie  to  Mary's  happy  face.  Grandpa  and 
Grandma  Wosta  shared  in  the  general  joy,  while  Jlerman, 
Mary's  big  brother,  was  so  elated  that  he  had  to  spread  the 
news  broadcast — "My  sister  Mary  has  a  baby,  and  'tis  a 
beauty,"  was  the  information  he  gave  to  his  chums. 

The  chiM  was  duly  chr'stene  1  ]nore!ice  Rurdett.  John 
Long  and  Mary  Maloney  stoo  1  up  for  her.  They  were  not  of 
the  same  faiih  as  I'lorcnce's  parents,  but  t'nat  made  no  differ- 
ence between  such  warm  friends. 

Baby  Durdctt  was  truly  a  ijcautiful  ch;;i.  wiili  blue  eyes 
and  flaxen  I;air — her  fond  parcnis'  treasure,  a  delight  to  the 
neigliborhor.d.  she  was  liicc  a  ray  of  sunshine.  She  was  wel- 
comed everywl^.ere.  The  mother's  busy  needle  was  constantly 
employed  in  n-;.:'k-ing  finery  for  her.  The  clothes  line  on 
wash-day  was  lull  of  dainty  ajjoarel  for  the  young  miss,  who, 
when  two  years  old.  delighted  to  run  and  meet  papa  when 
coming  from  his  work,  her  mother  standing  on  the  doorstep 
beaming  with  joy  to  greet  them  as  they  came  along.  Henry 
Burdett  carrying  his  offspring  in  his  stalwart  arms  as  happy 
as  a  king. 

But  this  happiness  was  not  to  last :  about  this  time  there  was 
a  sad  accident  at  the  mi'l  where  Henry  worked — he  lost  his 
life  and  was  brought  home  a  corpse. 

The  wife,  who  on  that  fatal  morning  was  on  the  very  pin- 
nacle of  hope,  was  in  the  evening  in  the  abyss  of  despair. 

All  who  knew  her  shared  her  misery.  John  Long  and  his 
wife  (nee  Mary  ^Nfaloney)  were  grief-stricken.  John  Long 
took  charge  of  the  funeral,  his  wife  of  the  ]-!ome  and  tlie  baby, 
"\A'idow  Burdett  being  incinable  through  t'le  frightful  shock, 
while  Mrs.  Sloan  lent  a  willing  hand. 

When  T^enry's  remains  v/ere  bid  away,  the  Wostas  wanted 
their  daughter  t">  cnme  home.  But  no.  she  would  cling  to  the 
little  cottage  with  the  garden.     It  was  made  sacred  to  Henry's 


PROLOGUE  vii 

memory — the  garden  would   furnish  flowers  to  decorate  his 
grave. 

But  the  bread-winner  was  gone,  the  funeral  had  eaten  up 
nearly  all  the  little  savings,  what  was  to  be  done  ?  Mrs.  Long, 
who  herself  had  been  left  a  widow,  had  a  suggestion.  "Mary," 
she  said  one  evening  in  talking  to  Mrs.  Burdett,  "when  my 
first  husband  died,  I  was  left  like  you  with  little  resources.  I 
had  to  do  something  for  a  living,  so  started  a  boarding  house. 
You're  handy  with  your  needle,  what  say  you  if  you  start  a 
little  dress-making  establishment?  You  have  Igls  of  friends, 
and  we  will  all  help  you."  So  it  was  agreed,  and  in  a  few  days 
a  sign  appeared  in  the  front  window  of  the  Burdett  cottage: 
Plain  Sewing 

AND 

Children's  Dresses  Made  Here. 

The  friends  and  neighbors,  only  too  willing  to  lend  a  helping 
hand,  furnished  Mary  with  plenty  of  work,  so  that  ere  three 
months  were  over,  there  was  no  danger  of  the  wolf  prowling 
too  cloie  to  the  door. 

Widow  Burdett  worked  late  and  early,  and  her  vocation  and 
the  care  of  her  child  helped  her  in  part  to  forget  her  troubles. 

Her  own  education  had  been  sadly  neglected ;  she  deter- 
mined that  her  daughter  should  not  suffer  from  such  a  dis- 
ability. So  when  she  was  old  enough  she  sent  her  to  school. 
At  fourteen  the  girl  could  have  graduated,  but  the  principal 
apj>ealed  to  Widow  Burdett  to  let  her  remain  a  couple  of 
years  longer — he  would  pay  special  attention  to  her. 

"She  will  prove  a  credit  to  you,"  said  the  friendly  teacher; 
"she  is  by  far  the  best  behaved  and  most  intelligent  girl  in 
school." 

So  Mary  consented ;  she  would  struggle  on,  though  the  con- 
stant labor  was  telling  on  her — her  eyes  began  to  fail  her, 
Florence  had  to  thread  her  needles  for  her  of  an  evening. 

When  sixteen  years  old,  Florence  Burdett  graduated  with 
the  highest  honors.  Her  mother  and  friends  went  to  the  clos- 
ing exercises  of  the  school  and  wept  tears  of  joy  as  they  lis- 
tened to  the  plaudits  of  all  assembled  when  Florence  received 
her  honors. 


viii  PROLOGUE 

Herman,  her  uncle,  now  a  stalwart  man,  had  bought  no  less 
than  two  dozen  American  Beauties,  and  over  a  yard  of  broad 
white  silk  ribbon,  the  best  they  had  in  the  store,  to  bind  them 
with.  His  sister  tied  the  bow  and  arranged  the  flowers  when 
he  handed  them  up  to  his  niece  on  the  platform.  They  were 
an  arm  full,  and  her  fellow-pupils  set  up  a  cheer,  while  she 
colored  with  joy  and  embarrassment. 

Mrs.  Long  hugged  her  until  she  disarranged  the  dress  that 
her  mother  had  spent  many  days  and  nights  in  making  out  of 
a  fabric  that  the  good-hearted  ]Mrs.  Long  had  purchased  for 
the  occasion. 

The  fall  of  the  year  in  which  Florence  had  graduated  wit- 
nessed one  of  those  periodical  depressions  which  seem  to  occur 
at  regular  intervals  in  this  land  of  plenty. 

Old  man  Wosta,  though  still  hale,  had  only  half  time. 

The  mill  of  which  John  Long  was  still  foreman,  and  where 
Herman  worked,  was  shut  down  altogether.  Herman  had 
sought  work  diligently  elsewhere,  but  had  failed  in  obtaining  it. 
Even  Widow  Burdett's  customers  had  fallen  away — they  were 
nearly  all  working  people,  and  felt  the  general  pinch.  Widow 
Burdett  felt  she  could  weather  the  storm,  but  it  made  her  sa<i 
to  think  she  couldn't  give  a  helping  hand  to  her  parents. 

Florence  was  only  too  anxious  to  help  her  mother,  but  now 
as  work  was  scarce  there  was  little  she  could  do.  One  evening 
while  reading  the  paper  to  her  mother  she  noticed  in  the  ad- 
vertising columns  a  paragraph  that  struck  her  attention. 

"Mother."  she  said,  "listen  to  this." 

"WANTED — In  the  Cleveland  store,  a  number  of  young 
ladies  to  help  over  the  holiday  season.  Those  who  prove 
worthy  by  their  energy-  and  intelligence  may  secure  permanent 
places.  Apply  Friday,  December  16th.  at  9  a.  m.,  in  alley 
entrance,  rear  of  establishment." 

"Mother,"  she  said,  after  reading  the  above,  "you  ought  to 
let  me  go;  I'm  sure  I  would  do  well." 

"No,  my  child,  I  don't  want  you  to  go.  They  don't  pay 
much  to  girls  in  those  places,  and  the  work  is  hard." 


PROLOGUE  ix 

"Well,  but,  mother,  you  see  I  am  a  good  scholar,  and  prob- 
ably when  they  see  how  useful  I  could  be,  I  might  get  a  job  in 
the  office — you  see  it  says  those  who  are  energetic  and  intelli- 
gent may  secure  permanent  places.  Come,  now,  that's  a  dear 
mother,  let  me  go."  She  rose,  and,  placing  her  arms  arpuna 
her  mother's  neck,  kissed  her.  "You  know  other  girls  go," 
she  continued,  "and  why  won't  you  let  me?     I  am  strong." 

A  tear  came  into  Widow  Burdett's  eye  as  she  ran  counter 
to  her  daughter's  wishes. 

"Florence,  I  want  to  have  you  always  with  me.  We  wih 
get  on  all  right,  with  God's  help ;  coming  on  Christmas  I  miv 
have  more  work,  and  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  I  will  try  tc 
get  you  into  some  office.  You  know  Mr.  Long  will  speak 
for  you." 

"Yes,  mother,  but  you  can  let  me  go  for  a  few  weeks,  any- 
way, and  then,  you  know,  if  Mr.  Long  gets  me  a  place  I  can 
leave  the  Cleveland  store,  can't  I  ?  In  the  meantime  I  would 
earn  a  little  money  and  you  know  that  would  help — it  is  com- 
ing on  Christmas.  Come,  now,  do  let  me  go,"  again  kissing 
her  mother — who  ultimately  gave  way  to  her  daughter's  en- 
treaties. 


Chapter  I. 

HOLY   FAMILY   CHURCH   AND   ITS   SURROUNDINGS. 

The  opening  chapter  of  our  story  has  for  the  scenes  of  its 
operations  territory  adjacent  to  the  Holy  Family  Church, 
which,  besides  its  original  purpose,  a  place  of  worship,  should 
be  a  monument  to  commemorate  the  memory  of  that  untiring 
and  devoted  soldier  of  the  Cross,  the  Rev.  Arnold  Damon, 
S.  J.,  its  founder. 

It  is  claimed  that  at  one  time  there  was  a  larger  congrega- 
tion worshipped  at  its  altars  than  there  was  at  any  other  re- 
ligious institution  in  tlie  country  ;  or  'maybe  in  the  world. 

The  church,  when  first  built,  stood  out  on  a  prairie ;  its 
lofty  tower  could  be  seen  for  miles  around.  There  was  little 
in  those  days  to  obstruct  the  view.  The  era  of  skyscrapers 
had  not  arrived ;  and  whatever  buildings  there  were  in  close 
proximity  were  dwarfs  in  comparison  to  the  splendid  propor- 
tions of  the  then  well  known  Jesuit  Church,  as  the  people  used 
to  call  it. 

This  church,  like  a  beacon  light,  was  a  great  attraction  to 
the  devout  of  the  Catholic  faith,  who  began  to  locate  around 
its  sacred  shrines. 

The  surveyor  was  abroad,  defining  the  boundaries  where 
people  were  going  to  locate  their  homes. 

In  the  early  '60's  this  was  considered  a  choice  neighbor- 
hood ;  not  too  far  from  the  center  of  the  city,  the  growth  of 
this  section  was  so  rapid  that  in  a  few  brief  years  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Family  stood  in  the  center  of  a  populous  district. 

It  was  natural  that  those  desiring  to  reside  in  close  prox- 


2  HOLY  FAMILY  CHURCH  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

imity  to  this  sacred  edifice  were  of  the  Roman  Catholic  faith, 
of  which  the  Irish  furnished  nearly  the  whole. 

A  few  German  Catholics,  it  is  true,  made  their  homes 
amongst  them;  but  it  might  be  said  with  truth  that  the  Holy 
Family  Church  was  located  in  an  Irish  settlement,  owned  and 
controlled  by  the  Irish  people. 

The  bulk  of  the  stores  and  business  places  in  the  neighbor- 
hood under  consideration  were  run  by  Irishmen  and  Irish- 
women ;  and  Celtic  names  were  to  be  seen  on  the  front  of 
their  respective  establishments. 

Hogans,  Mullens,  Mclnernys,  O'Briens,  Ryans,  McCarthys, 
Bradleys,  Foxes,  Murphys,  Sullivans,  O'Learys  and  others  of 
as  distinctively  Irish  origin.  The  Irish  in  those  days  were 
the  prosperous  business  people.  True,  they  would  not  rank 
with  the  business  magnates  of  today,  but  this  was  at  a  time 
when  the  term  "predatory  wealth"  was  not  a  subject  for  polit- 
ical or  economic  discussion.  There  was  hardly  a  millionaire, 
or  a  pauper,  in  the  country. 

The  Irish  had  a  monopoly  of  the  grocery  trade,  with  the 
little  annex  in  the  rear,  where  wet  goods  were  dispensed  and 
matters  of  state  discussed  in  the  evening  by  neighboring  men 
who  desired  to  gossip. 

The  liveries  were  entirely  in  their  hands,  and  a  prosperous 
business  was  done  by  those  who  had  conveyances  to  hire  for 
christenings,  weddings,  or  funerals,  as  the  case  might  be. 

In  those  days  the  roads  and  the  sidewalks  were  far  from 
good ;  the  street  car  system  was  not  very  extensive,  so  that 
those  who  had  business  which  required  them  to  cover  much 
territory  had  either  to  "foot  it"  or  hire  a  coach,  cab,  or  buggy 
as  they  might  deem  advisable. 

There  were,  of  course,  other  industries  in  which  people  were 
engaged,  but  the  livery  and  the  grocery  were  the  most  impor- 
tant. In  the  former.  Irishmen  still  hold  their  own  and  will 
do  so  for  some  time  to  come,  as  the  Irish  people  follow  the 
habit  of  turning  out  to  funerals  en  masse — a  foolish  custom 
they  have  brought  with  them  from  their  native  land.  That  it 
is  only  proper  for  the  relatives  and  close  friends  to  show  re- 


Jy.       ^ a.-^'i.^n.^.-^     ^7 


HOLY  FAMILY  CHURCH   AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS.  6 

spect  to  the  dead  is  indisputable ;  but  why  the  numerous 
attendance  at  some  funerals  is  hard  to  explain. 

A  good  man,  a  highly  respected  citizen  may  die,  a  few  car- 
riages, not  to  exceed  fifteen,  may  follow  him  to  his  last  resting 
place ;  but  on  the  death  of  a  popular  saloonkeeper's  wife,  a 
good  woman  supposedly,  the  number  of  vehicles  may  reach 
one  hundred  and  fifty. 

More  surprising  still,  we  remember  an  incident  where,  on 
the  death  of  a  saloonkeeper's  baby,  a  mere  infant  a  few  weeks 
old,  upwards  of  one  hundred  carriages  were  counted  in  the 
long  procession  that  followed  the  child's  remains  to  the  grave- 
yard. 

If  carriage  hire,  floral  display,  and  loss  of  time  could  have 
been  figured  up,  the  burial  of  this  infant  must  have  cost  from 
twelve  to  fifteen  hundred  dollars.  I  leave  my  readers  to  re- 
flect on  the  large  sums  expended  on  unnecessary  display  at 
funerals  of  this  character,  by  a  people  who  have  neither  hall 
nor  institute  with  which  to  be  identified ;  nor  a  single  monu- 
ment in  either  park,  square,  or  place  to  commemorate  the 
memory  of  the  patriot,  poet,  statesman  or  warrior,  of  which 
their  native  land  has  furnished  so  many  brilliant  examples  to 
the  world. 

The  Irish,  in  this  year  of  our  Lord,  1909,  have  been  either 
cut  out  of  or  have  forsaken  the  grocery  business ;  they  have, 
however,  extended  the  annex. 

The  names  of  Irishmen  still  blazon  out  over  hundreds  of 
saloons  in  this  territory.  In  most  cases  the  house  is  leased 
and  the  fixtures  owned  by  the  brewery.  The  Celtic  landlord, 
whose  name  appears  over  the  door,  is  but  a  tenant  at  will, 
placed  there  for  the  purpose  of  inducing  his  fellow  countrymen 
to  trade  with  one  of  his  own  people.     Bless  the  mark ! 

In  all  other  lines  of  business,  with  the  exception  of  the 
aforementioned,  other  than  the  Irish  have  taken  entire  con- 
trol, even  to  the  selling  of  beads,  prayer  books,  crosses,  and 
religious  goods  of  all  descriptions. 

After  the  famine  years  in  Ireland  of  1846-7  and  8  the  Lon- 
don Times  had  an  article  dwelling  on  the  subject  of  the  Irish 
exodus,  in  which  they  said:     "The   Irish  have  gone  with  a 


4  HOLY  FAMILY  CHURCH   AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

vengeance."  How  similar  the  conditions  are  of  the  territory 
we  are  now  considering!  On  many  of  the  streets  of  the 
neighborhood  on  which,  but  a  few  years  ago,  none  but  Irish 
people  resided,  there  is  not  now  a  single  family  of  the  race  left 
to  tell  the  tale. 

It  might  be  said  with  the  poet: 

"Their  lords  were  great 

In  the  olden  day; 
Their  might  and  their  power 

Have  mouldered  away. 
They  wander  unknown 

In  a  foreign  land, 
And  their  homes  have  long  passed 

To  a  stranger  hand." 

But,  worse  than  all,  we  feel  shame  in  having  to  record  it, 
the  Sacred  Heart  Academy,  in  which  thousands  of  their 
daughters  received  their  education,  where  they  were  taught 
religion  and  morality,  has  passed  into  the  hands  of  the 
Israelites. 

The  Irish,  however,  are  still  the  dominant  political  power; 
they  are  natural-born  politicians ;  it  is  hereditary — bred  in 
them,  the  result  of  the  ceaseless  agitation  in  Ireland  during 
the  centuries  of  English  misrule  in  the  land  of  their  origin. 

The  Irish  politician  may  lack  knowledge  of  economic  ques- 
tions, .01  what  is  known  in  Europe  as  statecraft,  but  they 
know  how  to  carry  primary  elections  and  run  conventions.  A 
roster  of  the  managing  committee  of  one  of  the  great  leading 
political  parties  (at  the  present  writing)  here  in  Cook  County 
might  easily  be  taken  for  the  membership  in  a  Clan-na-Gael 
camp. 

While  the  other  great  party,  in  which  but  a  few  years  ago 
hardly  an  Irish  name  could  be  found,  now  has  leaders  in 
twenty  of  the  thirty-five  wards  of  Chicago,  men  of  Irish  origin 
and  with  distinctly  Celtic  names.  This  condition  in  time  will 
assuredly  prove  a  leavening  if  not  a  leveling  influence.     The 


HOLY   FAMILY   CHURCH    AND   ITS   SURROUNDINGS.  O 

political  business  seems  to  harmonize  with  the  other  two  indus- 
tries of  which  we  made  special  mention. 

The  astute  poHtical  boss  looks  to  the  saloonkeeper  to  help  to 
furnish  the  boys  when  a  primary  fight  is  under  way.  The 
boss  in  many  cases  has  been  himself  a  mixer  of  drinks,  and 
while  there  is  no  law  to  prevent  a  man  in  any  other  trade 
from  taking  an  active  part  in  the  political  drama,  the  saloon- 
keeper holds  a  prominent  place  in  the  cast,  is  often  the  main 
cog  in  the  political  wheel,  right  bower  to  the  boss,  whose 
praises  he  always  sings ;  tells  his  customers  what  a  rjood  fellow 
lie  is  and  that  he  never  goes  back  on  a  friend. 

The  house  of  mourning  is  another  fruitful  field  in  which 
the  unscrupulous  political  charlatan  gets  in  his  work.  Grief 
in  the  household  makes  people  susceptible  to  any  little  kind- 
ness or  mark  of  respect  to  their  dead;  the  grief  stricken  are 
in  a  receptive  state  of  mind,  so  the  boss  makes  a  point  of 
attending  all  the  wakes  in  his  district. 

The  alderman,  in  particular,  never  fails  to  pay  a  visit  on  at 
least  one  of  the  evenings  while  the  corpse  lies  in  state.  His 
arrival  creates  a  stir,  the  word  is  passed  around,  he  looks  as 
solemn  as  the  undertaker,  whose  trade  it  is  to  look  sad.  He 
inquires  for  the  most  directly  affected,  and  expresses  his  sor- 
row. If  he  visits  the  death  chamber  he  heaves  a  sigh,  gazes 
at  the  corpse  for  a  moment  or  two,  makes  a  little  inquiry  as 
to  what  he  died  of,  his  or  her  age,  as  the  case  may  be.  Prob- 
ably he  never  heard  of  the  deceased  in  his  life  until  he  read 
the  death  notice  in  the  paper,  or  some  of  his  constituents  "put 
him  on."  If  a  young  man,  he  may  remember  all  the  trouble 
he  had  keeping  him  out  of  the  penitentiary.  No  matter;  on 
occasions  of  this  character  his  grief  is  made  to  measure.  The 
men  present,  of  course,  all  know  him,  and  feel  pleasure  in 
saying,  "How-do,  Alderman." 

Even  the  women  who  are  assembled  look  admiringly  at  the 
kindly  public  official  whose  condescension  in  coming  they  are 
sure  to  appreciate,  though  they  may  have  heard  whispered 
some  tough  stories  about  him,  which,  if  only  partly  true, 
should  put  him  out  of  the  pale  of  good  society,  and  lead  them 


6  HOLY  FAMILY  CHURCH  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS. 

to  gather  up  their  skirts  as  he  passes,  for  fear  of  contami-^ 
nation. 

He  inquires  what  time  the  funeral  will  take  place,  and  who 
is  the  undertaker.     At  the  mention  of  the  latter's  name  he 

looks  his  approval,  remarking,  "That's  well;  Mr.  (the 

funeral  director)  understands  his  business."  He  then  takes 
his  leave,  looking  as  downcast  as  if  he  had  lost  a  very  dear 
friend. 

Such  is  the  close  affinity  between  Death,  Drink,  and  Politics 
in  the  neighborhood  where  our  story  begins. 


Chapter  H. 
workingman's  headquarters. 

The  middle  of  December,  188 — ,  was  cold  and  bleak. 
There  was  an  indication  of  a  severe  winter. 

On  the  day  on  which  our  story  opens  there  had  been  snow 
flurries ;  a  piercing  wind  followed.  Ere  the  night  was  far  ad- 
vanced a  coating  of  ice  began  to  form  on  the  surface  of  the 
puddles  that  here  and  there  formed  on  the  worn-out  pavement 
of  the  street  to  which  the  first  scene  of  our  history  relates. 

The  vigor  of  the  chill  December  blast  had  sent  nearly  every 
one  indoors.  There  were  few  people  astir  on  the  streets,  even 
of  a  business  aspect.  The  by-streets  were  completely  de- 
serted. On  one  of  the  short  streets  in  the  locality  aforemen- 
tioned, few  people  were  to  be  found  on  any  night  at  this  season 
of  the  year,  except  when  a  brawl  or  a  disturbance  of  some 
kind  enlivened  the  surroundings.  The  street  had  a  forbid- 
ding appearance ;  its  reputation  was  not  of  the  best. 

On  both  sides  of  the  street  there  were  frame  dwellings, 
mostly  one-story  structures  raised  up  on  stilts,  as  if  to  keep 
them  out  of  the  mud.  A  few  steps  led  up  to  the  living  rooms. 
Underneath  the  buildings  were  coal-sheds  and  debris  of  all 
kinds.     Where  the  ground  was  low  underneath  some  of  them 


WORKINGMAN  S    HEADQUARTERS.  7 

the  water  used  to  lodge  after  every  rain,  forming  a  miniature 
duck  pond  in  summer  and  a  place  where  the  children  might 
slide  in  the  winter,  if  the  stilts  on  which  the  house  stood  were 
long  enough  to  elevate  the  building  sufficiently  to  give  them 
head-room.  There  were  a  few  two-story  structures  of  more 
imposing  dimensions,  larger  but  not  better,  having  the  same 
general  appearance  of  neglect  and  decay. 

The  street  at  night  was  badly  lit.  Midway  there  were 
lamps,  which,  under  the  best  conditions,  gave  but  a  fitful  light, 
many  nights  giving  no  light  at  all.  The  lamp-lighter,  who  had 
to  go  a  half  block  from  his  main  route  to  light  them,  either 
forgot  them  or  "passed  them  up"  as  making  little  dilTerence. 
Occasionally,  after  being  lit,  they  were  put  out  by  the  mis- 
chievous youngsters  who  wished  to  play  pranks  on  some 
of  the  neighbors,  or  by  evil-disposed  persons,  who  had  ar- 
ranged to  escape  down  the  by-way,  after  their  depredations. 
Few,  even  of  the  police,  cared  to  follow  fleeing  culprits  down 
this  narrow  street,  and  if  they  did,  capture  was  nearly  impos- 
sible, as  alongside  every  shanty  was  a  passageway  which  fur- 
nished ready  avenues  of  escape  to  those  pursued. 

Few  having  occasion  to  travel  on  it,  it  was  shunned  by 
nearly  all  except  those  who  resided  on  it,  or  a  class  of  visitors 
who  were  much  more  likely  to  rob  than  to  be  robbed. 

On  the  corner  at  one  end  there  was  a  saloon  (nothing  re- 
markable in  this  neighborhood,  as  nearly  every  corner  had  its 
saloon).  This  one  in  particular  was  frequented  by  a  noisy, 
turbulent  crowd,  especially  at  night.  Many's  the  altercation 
leading  to  a  fight  was  commenced  in  this  establishment.  On 
the  front  windows  in  large  letters  was  the  name : 

OWEN   HOOLIGAN,  DEALER  IN  DOMESTIC  AND  IMPORTED  LIQUORS. 
FINE    CIGARS. 

From  the  corner  of  the  building  hung  a  brewer's  sign,  telling 
of  the  particular  beer  that  was  dealt  in,  and  right  in  the  center 
of  the  sign  an  enormous  big  glass  overflowing  with  foam,  to 
illustrate  the  quantity  doled  out  at  every  installment.  There 
was  a  side  door,  entering  from  the  narrow  street  aforemen- 


8  WORKINGMAN'S    HEADQUARTERS. 

tioned,  at  which  there  was  a  sign  informing  all  who  chanced 
to  read — "Family  Entrance,"  and  right  over  the  front  win- 
dows, running  the  whole  length,  as  if  to  give  dignity  and  prom- 
inence to  the  announcement,  in  letters  a  foot  in  length,  were 
the  words:     "Workingman's  Headquarters." 

On  entering  the  saloon  one  had  further  proof  of  the  race 
sympathies  of  the  proprietor.  From  the  walls  were  hung  pic- 
lures  of  scenes,  emblems  and  portraits  of  patriots  dear  to  the 
memory  of  every  true  Irishman.  Emmett  was  there,  standing 
erect,  just  as  he  was  supposed  to  have  stood  while  confronting 
the  brutal  Lord  Norbury.  The  great  emancipator  also  had  a 
conspicuous  place. 

There  was  a  war  scene  or  two,  showing  how  the  Irish  Brig- 
ade was  making  the  Sasenech  take  to  his  heels  at  Fontenoy, 
and  another  picturing  Brian  Boroue's  men  knocking  the  stuff- 
ings out  of  the  Danes  at  Clontarf. 

Owen  Hooligan,  the  proprietor,  was  a  character,  and  de- 
serves special  mention.  He  w'as  a  man  of  middle  age  and 
florid  countenance.  He  was  like  a  fellow  to  whom  the  world 
had  proven  kind.  He  had  an  assumed  sociability,  the  glad 
hand  for  all  who  had  the  price.  He  was  a  member  of  all  the 
patriotic  societies,  and  as  many  benevolent  associations  as 
would  let  him  in.  He  was  liberal  to  the  Church  and  whenever 
a  bazaar  was  held  he  made  it  a  point  to  visit  it  on  one  of  the 
evenings,  at  least,  and,  fortified  with  an  ample  supply  of  dimes, 
he  had  all  the  old  and  young  women  workers  in  the  parish 
running  after  him. 

Hooligan,  fully  aware  that  the  burial  of  the  dead  was  one 
of  the  cardinal  works  of  mercy,  attended  many  wakes  and 
funerals,  at  which  he  cut  quite  a  figure.  He  was  highly  re- 
spected by  the  public  officials  of  both  parties,  especially  by  the 
aldermen  who  claimed,  like  Hooligan,  to  be  of  the  Democratic 
faith. 

Hooligan,  however,  never  let  blind  partisanship  interfere 
with  his  business.  Though  differing  in  political  professions 
from  the  Republican  manager,  he  was  willing  to  help  him  out 
when  he  required  assistance  at  a  Republican  primary,  or  even 
to  boost  one  of  his  friends  on  his  party  ticket.     Owen  Hooli- 


WORKINGMAN  S    HEADQUARTERS.  9 

gan  could  supply  rye  and  bourbon  from  the  same  five-gallon 
jug,  and  why  not  Republicans  or  Democrats  from  the  one 
supply  of  workers?  Besides,  Hooligan  knew  that  the  Demo- 
cratic boss  and  the  Republican  boss  of  the  ward  were  the  best 
of  friends,  and  so  why  not  serve  them  both?  It  paid!  A 
change  in  the  city  government  might  occur  at  any  mayoralty 
election,  and  Owen  wanted  to  be  under  cover. 

The  knowledge  of  Hooligan's  influence  gave  him  consider- 
able prestige  and  brought  "grist  to  his  mill,"  as  the  saying  goes. 

The  only  politicians  that  Hooligan  had  no  use  for  were  the 
Socialists  and  the  Independents — the  former  he  could  never 
distinguish  from  Anarchists,  and  the  latter  from  "Reformers," 
a  class  of  individuals  that,  in  his  opinion,  should  have  no  place 
in  good  society,  as  they  were  a  set  of  disturbers.  He  was  not 
so  much  opposed  to  the  Labor  Party,  while  he  would  refute 
the  charge  of  being  in  any  way  associated  with  them,  fully 
cognizant  of  their  foolishness ;  but  from  the  fact  of  his  hos- 
telry being  known  as  the  "Workingmen's  Headquarters,"  he 
felt  he  should  tolerate  them. 

A  much  more  appropriate  name  for  Hooligan's  joint  would 
have  been  "Hobo's  Headquarters,"  for  he  invariably  had  a 
number  of  the  sons  of  rest  hanging  around,  waiting,  like 
Micawber,  for  "something  to  turn  up." 

Should  a  transient  customer  drop  in  that  Owen  knew  had 
the  price,  Owen  saluted  him  in  the  cheeriest  manner,  shook 
hands  with  him,  inquired  how  he  was  getting  on.  This  led 
the  consumers  present  to  prick  up  their  ears,  and  Hooligan 
took  pains  to  introduce  them  to  the  newcomer,  whom  we  will 
call  Smith. 

Hooligan  said:  "Mr.  Smith,  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Rior- 
dan ;  let  me  make  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Snyder ;  Mr.  Jones, 
Mr.  Smith ;  you  know  Mr.  Brown,  of  course."  Mr.  Smith 
had  not  the  honor,  but  would  be  happy  to  make  Mr.  Brown's 
acquaintance. 

Mr.  Smith  by  this  time  began  to  feel  the  warmth  of  Mr. 
Hooligan's  greeting.  The  gang  lined  up  to  the  bar  and  Mr. 
Smith  ordered  the  drinks,  and  most  likely  duplicated  the  order. 


10  workingman's  headquarters. 

Any  stragglers  of  the  house  of  HooHgan  who  came  in  dur- 
ing the  interval  were  duly  introduced  to  Mr.  Smith.  If  Mr. 
Smith  was  particularly  easy  to  work,  ere  he  took  his  departure 
Hooligan's  cash  register  received  many  a  clang,  and  all  in 
honor  of  Mr.  Smith,  and  at  his  (Smith's)  expense. 

Just  as  Smith  was  about  to  break  away  Hooligan  would  say : 
"Come,  now,  Smith,  you  must  have  one  with  me  before  you 
go,"  which  often  led  to  a  deferring  of  the  departure  of  the 
honored  guest,  who  more  than  likely  paid  for  more  drinks  be- 
fore he  finally  escaped. 

Hooligan  also  ran  a  kind  of  Labor  Bureau,  which  was  in 
keeping  with  the  nomenclature  of  his  saloon.  The  main  ob- 
ject, however,  that  Hooligan  had  in  mind,  was  to  enable  his 
men  to  be  in  a  position  to  unload  schooners  and  plant  rye. 
In  those  days  there  was  no  civil  service  to  interfere  and  pre- 
vent Hooligan's  customers  from  getting  on  the  pay-roll ;  even 
under  the  county  administration,  in  virtue  of  his  pull  with  the 
Republican  boss,  he  was  able  to  place  a  few  men ;  he  could 
also  get  a  few  in  the  service  of  the  diflferent  railway  companies, 
who,  at  that  time,  were  obtaining  an  entrance  into  Chicago 
by  the  influence,  partly,  of  his  friend,  the  alderman,  who  was 
securing  for  them  the  right-of-way  by  helping  to  donate  to 
them  the  public  streets  of  Chicago  free  of  cost,  except  a  contri- 
bution to  himself  and  fellow-aldermen  to  help  defray  expenses. 

The  Gas  Company  had  also  a  number  of  laborers  in  their 
employ  who  owed  their  positions  to  Hooligan's  pull.  Another 
source  of  Hooligan's  strength  lay  in  his  ability  to  go  on  bonds, 
if  any  of  the  boys  got  into  trouble.  He  was  a  well  known 
figure  in  the  police  courts — trifling  derelictions,  such  as  assault 
and  battery,  drunk  and  disorderly  conduct,  he  could  generally 
fix  up  either  by  obtaining  a  dismissal  or  having  the  fine  sus- 
pended. The  alderman,  of  course,  was  always  there  to  help 
him  out. 

If  the  charge  against  any  of  his  patrons  was  of  a  serious 
character  he  still  went  on  their  bonds ;  few  he  ever  went  back 
on.  He  knew  that  the  bond  ran  very  little  risk  of  being  for- 
feited. 

His  friend,  the  alderman,  was  as  well  known  and  as  highly 


workingman's  headquarters.  11 

respected  in  the  State's  Attorney's  office  as  he  was  in  the  City 
Hall. 

There  was  no  likelihood,  however,  of  the  class  of  criminals 
that  he  stood  sponsor  for  "flying  the  coop" — they  ever  pinned 
their  faith  to  the  pull  of  their  political  friend  and  the  laxity  of 
the  law,  with  the  innumerable  methods  of  delay  by  which  trial 
could  be  deferred  until  the  prosecution  was  worn  out,  or 
the  witnesses  "squared." 

Hooligan,  when  out  for  the  day,  was  a  prince  of  good 
fellows.  He  called  in  to  see  a  number  in  the  same  line  of 
business  as  himself. 

On  his  entrance  he  always  received  a  kindly  welcome. 
"How  are  you,  Mr.  Hooligan,"  was  the  general  acclaim.  He 
was  overflowing  with  good  nature  and  acted  as  if  he  was 
going  to  buy  out  the  stock.  He  was  going  to  pay  for  a  drink ; 
he  beckoned  those  in  the  rear  to  advance,  which  they  did 
without  coaxing.  "What  are  ye  all  going  to  have?"  On  giv- 
ing their  orders,  he  was  careful  to  remind  the  barkeeper  not 
to  forget  himself — an  unnecessary  precaution  (in  most  cases). 
When  he  had  to  pay,  he  never  asked,  the  score,  but  threw  a 
handful  of  silver  on  the  counter  for  the  barkeeper  to  take 
out  what  he  thought  was  right. 

In  some  cases,  where  he  was  sure  of  a  return  visit,  he 
ordered  another  drink,  and  so  went  the  rounds.  After  a 
day's  outing,  Hooligan's  popularity  grew,  and  while  it  cost 
something,  he  knew  full  well  that  from  every  place  he  called 
he  might  expect  a  return  visit  from  the  landlord — a  surmise 
in  which  he  seldom  erred,  and  as  he  generally  had  more  con- 
sumers around  his  place  than  had  most  of  those  he  had  called 
on,  he  came  out  at  the  right  end  of  the  mutual  visits. 

Hooligan,  of  course,  stood  well  with  the  police.  The  men 
on  the  beat  as  a  rule  made  his  house  a  kind  of  resting  place, 
after  their  arduous  duty  of  pulling  the  box.  They  knew 
Hooligan's  influence  in  municipal  affairs,  and  might  want 
his  timely  intercessions  with  the  aldermen,  if  they  ever  got 
into  a  scrape  and  were  threatened  with  dismissal  or  with 
being  transferred.  The  policemen  were  also  handy  to  have 
around,  as  some  of  Owen's  customers  had  to  be  bounced  oc- 


12  workingman's  headquarters. 

casionally,  and  the  police  were  there  to  see  that  Hooligan 
kept  an  orderly  house ;  right,  according  to  the  Hooligan  stand- 
ard of  public  and  political  morals.  They  were  also  useful  in 
being  able  to  give  him  pointers  that  might  be  worth  knowing 
to  some  of  his  young  friends  whose  liberty  was  in  imminent 
danger,  and  could  keep  him  posted  when  a  raid  was  made 
or  about  to  be  made  on  the  unfortunates  that  infested  the 
streets  in  those  days. 

When  such  an  event  came  off,  Hooligan  hurried  to  the  police 
station,  .and,  after  an  interview  which  he  could  have  with 
the  Magdalines  in  the  pen,  or  a  whispered  conversation  with 
their  lady  employer,  would  go  on  their  bonds  for ''either  a  cash 
consideration,  or  a  promise  to  pay.  " 

Such,  then,  was  Hooligan,  one  of  a  type  of  saloonkeepers, 
that  are  now  rapidly  and  happily  being  starved  out. 


Chapter  HI. 

A  BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY.    . 

Though  the  weather  was  cold  out  of  doors,  it  was  warm  and 
comfortable  in  Hooligan's — the  big  vulcan  stove,  which  he  had 
the  foresight  to  have  put  up  on  the  first  indication  of  cold 
weather,  was  in  full  blast — the  bottom  part  was  red  hot. 

Lined  along  the  side  opposite  the  bar  was  a  rack  which 
held  barrels.  In  the  space  between  there  were  seated  a  few 
of  the  old  stand-bys,  which  made  Hooligan's  their  evening  re- 
sort. 

On  one  side  of  the  room  was  a  table  and  some  four  chairs, 
on  which  those  who  desired  could  play  a  game  of  seven-up,  or 
forty-five,  as  the  case  might  be.  All  others  who  frequented 
Hooligan's  bar  had  to  stand  or- find  a  perching  place  on  the 
rack  aforementioned. 

On   this   particular   night   there  were  a   number  of  young 


A  BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY.  13 

men  present.  They  seemed  flush,  and  were  paying  for  drinks 
for  the  crowd  freely. 

Amongst  those  present  were  Mike  Scully,  Red  Hart,  John 
Bert,  Henry  Mort,  Joe  Phipps,  and  Squinty  Rock.  They  were 
all  young  men,  none  of  them  over  twenty-five  years  of  age. 

Hooligan  was  paying  great  attention  to  them.  They  were 
talking  about  the  county  election,  which  was  held  but  a  few 
days  before,  and  wondering  if  the  men  to  whose  success  they 
had  contributed  would  give  them  any  recognition. 

Hooligan  promised  they  would,  as  Alderman  Great  was 
satisfied  with  the  good  work  they  had  done; 

Squinty  said,  "I  will  have  to  have  something — I  have  been 
playing  in  hard  luck,  as  you  know,  this  year,  and  I  must  lay 
low  for  a  while." 

Red  Hart  remarked,  "You  are  no  worse  off  than  I  am.  If 
Great  can't  fix  that  old  stiff  that  lost  his  wad,  where  am  I 
going  to  get  off?" 

Hooligan  told  them  they  need  have  no  fear.  "Great  prom- 
ised me  that  he  would  attend  to  it." 

Scully,  who  seemed  to  be  somewhat  of  a  leader  and  also 
a  pessimist,  told  them  they  would  all  get  good  jobs  in  the 
"Sweet-bye-and-bye" — "Little  Tommv  will  take  care  of  you 
all." 

"Oh,  shut  up,"  said  Hooligan  impatiently ;  "Tommy  always 
went  to  the  front  for  you." 

"Well,  if  he  did,  we  always  went  to  the  front  for  him," 
retorted  Scully,  sharply. 

"Come,  give  us  a  drink,"  said  Phipps.  Hooligan  began 
to  gather  their  empties,  and,  getting  their  orders,  proceeded 
to  fill  them. 

Phipps  nodded  his  head  to  the  consumers  sitting  near  .the 
barrels.  Hooligan  asked  them  what  they  wanted.  Some 
wanted  the  black  bottle,  others  would  take  a  "little  tay" — ^it  all 
came  out  of  the  same  bottle— Lipton  derived  no  profit  from 
the  kind  of  tea  Hooligan  sold. 

"Hello!  Murphy,  you  are  just  in  time,"  said  Phipps  to  a 
rhiddle-aged  man,  who  was  just  coming  in  at  the  door.    "J  am 


14  A  BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY, 

buying  a  drink,"  Murphy  took  a  little  whiskey,  ''Well, 
Bart,"  said  Scully,  addressing  the  newcomer,  "how  are  things 
coming?" 

"Pretty  slow,"  replied  Bart, 

Scully,  who  seemed  bent  on  mischief,  asked  Murphy  when 
he  was  going  to  get  that  job  that  had  been  promised  him. 

Murphy  said  he  couldn't  tell ;  he  had  been  at  the  city  hall 
and  spent  the  whole  morning  there  waiting  for  the  alderman, 
but  he  had  not  turned  up. 

Scully  gave  a  glance  over  at  Squinty  and  Hart,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "Didn't  I  tell  you  the  alderman  was  a  'con  man'  ?" 

Hooligan,  who  had  noticed  Scully's  significant  look,  again 
came  to  the  rescue  by  protesting  against  Scully's  suspicion,  and 
volunteered  the  statement  that  "The  alderman  was  taken  up 
with  some  matter  of  importance  down  town,  or  perhaps  he 
had  to  go  to  Madison  or  Twelfth  streets  (the  then  location  of 
the  police  stations)  ;  you're  always  suspicious,  anyhow." 

Scully  laughed  and  ordered  a  drink,  which  Hooligan 
promptly  filled,  not  forgetting  himself,  his  portion  amounting 
to  as  much  as  would  barely  cover  the  bottom  of  his  glass,  one 
of  his  vest  pockets  being  already  full  of  cigars,  which  he  had 
taken  with  the  boys  when  the  drinks  were  coming  too  rapidly. 

Along  toward  11  o'clock  a  forlorn  looking  woman  entered 
from  the  side  door,  and,  looking  over  toward  Murphy,  beck- 
oned him  to  come  home. 

"Go  on,  I'll  be  after  you,"  he  replied.  "Come  on,"  she  said 
to  him.  Scully,  noticing  her,  said,  "Come  in,  Mrs.  Murphy, 
won't  you  have  something?"  She  accepted  his  invitation. 
Murphy  inquired  of  her  if  Tony  had  got  home  yet.  She 
replied  that  he  had  not.  when  she  left  the  house,  but  that  she 
had  been  away  some  time. 

Murphy  gave  an  order.  He  had  no  money,  but  Hooligan 
would  rather  trust  him  than  break  up  the  harmony  of  the 
meeting  by  a  refusal. 

He  also  knew  that  when  Murphy  got  a  job  he  would  pay 
up.  Murphy,  by  this  time  feeling  good,  said,  "What  are  you 
going  to  have,  mother?"  She  took  a  little  whiskey  with 
cordial. 


A  BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY.  15 

x'-s  the  conversation  began  to  flag,  Scully  issued  a  challenge 
that  he  and  Murphy  could  play  any  two  in  the  house  a  game 
of  seven-up;  ''Come,  now,  Hooligan,  get  a  partner."  Hooligan 
refused  to  play. 

"Give  us  a  song,  Mike,  never  mind  the  cards." 

"No!  We'll  play  any  two  in  the  house,  won't  we.  Bart?" 
Murphy  nodded. 

Henry  Mort  and  John  Bert,  who  up  to  this  time  had  not 
taken  much  part  in  the  conversation,  accepted  the  challenge. 

They  played  a  number  of  games  with  varying  success, 
Hooligan  noting  the  losers,  serving  the  drinks,  and  putting  it 
down  on  a  tab. 

Close  upon  twelve  o'clock,  the  crowd  was  in  a  maudlin  con- 
dition ;  Murphy  could  hardly  see  his  cards.  The  game  they 
were  playing  was  a  close  one,  each  party  had  two  to  go; 
diamonds  were  trumps;  Mort  had  the  ace  and  king;  he  led 
in  an  attempt  to  capture  the  jack ;  it  wasn't  out ;  Scully  had 
the  deuce,  so  on  it  depended  the  game.  The  trumps  were 
exhausted.  At  the  third  lead  Mort  led  the  queen  of  spades; 
Murphy  pvit  the  three  of  clubs  on  it ;  Scully  gave  up  the  seven 
of  spades ;  Mort  then  led  the  jack  of  hearts ;  Murphy  beat  it 
with  a  king,  giving  the  table  a  thump  that  could  be  heard  out- 
side. "Well  done.  Murphy."  shouted  Scully.  Murphy  led  a 
club  that  went  good.  "Game,"  said  he,  leading  the  ten  of 
spades,  at  the  same  time  extending  his  hand  to  Scully,  who 
grasped  it,  laughing.  "Stop!  stop  a  moment,"  said  Mort; 
"what  did  you  put  on  my  queen  of  spades  ?"  laying  his  hand  on 
the  cards.  "You  reneged."  Murphy  didn't  know,  but  he  was 
sure  that  he  put  a  spade  on  it.  This  led  to  a  wrangle,  in  which 
Mrs.  Murphy,  then  well  in  her  cups,  took  part.  Mort  told  her 
to  keep  out — he  wasn't  talking  to  her.  She  persisted  in  abus- 
ing him.  Hooligan,  seeing  trouble,  came  from  behind  the  bar. 
taking  the  cards  away.  Mrs.  IMurphy  made  a  pass  at  Mort ; 
Scully  came  between  them,  at  the  same  time  telling  Murphy 
to  take  his  wife  home. 

Murphy  replied  that  he  would  go  home  when  he  got  ready. 

Hooligan,  seeing  that  matters  were  getting  ugly,  attempted 


16  A  BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY. 

to  pacify  Mrs.  Murphy,  at  the  same  time  telling  Murphy  it 
was  time  to  go  home,  anyway. 

The  two  policemen,  who  had  just  come  in  after  pulling  the 
box,  went  to  the  back  end  of  the  bar,  silent  observers  of  the 
wrangle,  but  giving  it  little  attention.  Such  trifles  as  a 
drunken  fracas  in  that  locality,  being  no  novelty,  were  un- 
worthy of  their  notice,  unless  Hooligan  wanted  them  to  inter- 
fere. 

Murphy  and  his  wife  were  ultimately  prevailed  on  to  go 
home,  after  Mrs.  Murphy  had  given  utterance  to  some  opinions 
about  the  "dirty  gang,"  as  she  called  them,  that  would  not 
look  well  in  print. 

Mrs.  Murphy  and  her  lord  and  master  left  Hooligan's  in 
very  bad  humor.  As  they  reeled  along  in  Indian  file,  Mrs. 
Murphy  in  the  rear,  she  was  soundly  berating  the  gang  of 
young  hoodlums  (as  she  called  them)  she  had  just  left  behind. 
She  also  scolded  Murphy  for  not  resenting  Mort's  insult  to 
her,  when  he  told  her  to  keep  out. 

Murphy  made  no  reply ;  he  knew  from  long  experience 
there  was  no  use  in  talking  back.  She  had  a  jag,  and  a  griev- 
ance, and  Murphy  at  that  time  had  no  antidote  for  either; 
besides,  he  had  troubles  of  his  own.  On  reaching  their  place 
of  abode,  Murphy  saw  rolled  up  on  the  top  of  the  steps 
leading  to  his  little  flat,  what  an  ordinary  observer  might  have 
mistaken  for  a  large  bundle  of  worn-out  clothing ;  on  close 
investigation  it  would  be  found  to  be  a  boy ;  his  cap,  pulled 
well  down  over  his  ears,  met  the  collar  of  his  little  jacket,  in 
an  attempt  to  keep  the  cold  from  his  face  and  ears.  Murphy 
knew  at  a  glance  it  was  his  son  Tony  (he  had  often  seen 
him  in  a  similar  position  before).  On  reaching  him,  he  gave 
him  a  kick  to  arouse  him.  This  being  insufficient,  reach- 
ing down,  he  grasped  him  by  the  collar  of  his  coat,  lifting  him 
to  his  feet ;  as  he  did  a  number  of  newspapers  fell  from  under 
the  boy's  arm.  'T  see  you  have  not  been  able  to  sell  your 
papers  tonight,  you  lazy  rascal !" 

The  boy,  now  fully  awake  and  in  fear  of  his  drunken  father, 
pleaded  as  an  excuse  that  the  night  was  so  cold  there  was  no 
one  on  the  streets  to  buy  papers.     "How  long  have  you  been 


A  BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY.  17 

sleeping  here?"  said  his  father  in  a  gruff  tone  of  voice.  "I 
don't  know/"  repUed  the  boy;  "not  long."  This  last  was  said 
with  a  view  to  palliate  his  offense. 

His  mother,  during  the  time  taken  up  in  this  colloquy,  was 
fumbling  in  her  pocket  to  get  the  key.  Finding  it,  she  opened 
the  door,  which  gave  young  Murphy  an  avenue  of  escape ; 
running  along  a  passage,  after  receiving  a  cuff  from  his  father 
to  accelerate  his  movements,  he  ran  to  the  rear  of  the  house, 
to  find  an  asylum  in  the  little  room  in  which  was  his  bed.  He 
was  cold,  hungry  and  sleepy.  Exhausted  nature  soon  made 
him  oblivious  to  all  v^orldly  troubles. 

The  Murphy  homestead  consisted  of  three  apartments.  An 
entrance  from  the  passage  to  the  left  led  to  the  front  room, 
which  served  as  a  bedroom  and  parlor ;  continuing  towards 
the  rear,  access  being  had  from  the  parlor  to  the  kitchen,  which 
also  served  as  a  dining  room.  Those  two,  and  the  little  back 
room  in  which  Tony  slept,  comprised  the  whole  suite.. 

On  Alurphy  reaching  his  parlor  bed-room,  he  threw  himself 
into  a  chair.  Placing  his  arms  on  a  table  which  was  con- 
venient, he  rested  his  head  on  them.  Mrs.  Murphy  with  diffi- 
culty busied  herself  lighting  a  lamp,  which  she  placed  on  the 
table  on  which  Murphy's  head  was  reclining.  She  then  shook 
him  violently,  telling  him  to  get  up  and  go  to  bed.  He 
growled  out  for  her  to  go  to  bed  herself  if  she  wanted  to — a 
proposition  she  availed  herself  of,  and,  disrobing,  rolled  in, 
leaving  Bart,  as  she  had  many  times  before,  to  follow  when 
he  had  slept  off  his  first  drunken  stupor. 

In  a  brief  time,  all  was  still  in  the  Murphy  household,  except 
the  heavy  snoring  of  the  man  in  the  chair,  his  head  still  resting 
on  his  arms.  About  three  in  the  morning  he  must  have  got 
restless,  and  while  still  in  a  stupid  condition  rolled  oft'  the  chair, 
upsetting  the  table  on  which  was  the  lamp,  falling  heavily  to 
the  floor,  where  he  lay.  the  lamp  overturned,  the  blazing  oil 
spread  over  the  floor,  setting  fire  to  the  rug  and  Mrs.  Murphy's 
clothing,  with  which  it  was  littered.  For  a  time  it  smouldered, 
giving  off  a  dense  volume  of  smoke,  followed  by  a  blaze  as 
the  woodwork  of  the  table  and  the  floor  took  fire. 


18  A  BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY. 

Ere  the  fire  was  observed,  at  that  hour  of  the  winter  morn- 
ing, in  that  still  neighborhood,  it  was  well  under  way. 

At  length  a  belated  traveler,  in  passing,  seeing  the  ruddy 
glow,  gave  the  alarm,  and  the  shout  of  Fire !  Fire !  Fire !  awoke 
the  slumbering  neighborhood.  Immediately,  it  seemed  as  if  the 
dead  had  come  to  life — the  noise  of  hurrying  feet  seemed  to 
come  from  all  directions,  windows  were  hastily  thrown  up  and 
screaming  women,  in  their  nightgowns,  added  to  the  babel  of 
voices. 

Those  whose  homes  were  in  close  proximity  clasped  their 
children  in  their  arms  and  sought  refuge  in  the  street,  terror- 
stricken,  while  others,  men  and  women,  began  to  remove  some 
of  their  worldly  goods.  Panic  reigned  everywhere.  "My 
God !"  screamed  Mrs.  O'Brien.  "It's  Murphy's — can  nothing 
be  done?"  as  she  held  up  her  hands  to  her  face  to  shut  out 
the  horrible  sight. 

From  the  time  of  the  first  alarm  was  but  a  few  moments, 
though  it  seemed  hours  to  the  anxious  crowd,  who  waited  the 
coming  of  the  fire  department,  when  Hooligan's  side  door  was 
thrown  violently  open  and  out  rushed  Scully,  Mort,  Phipps, 
Hart,  Bert  and  Rock  in  the  order  named.  By  this  time  the 
blaze  was  coming  through  both  of  the  front  windows,  while 
from  the  front  door  issued  a  dense  volume  of  smoke.  The 
case  seemed  hopeless,  tenants  and  house  were  doomed ;  no 
earthly  help  could  save  them. 

Scully  was  the  first  to  reach  the  burning  building.  He  made 
an  attempt  to  enter,  somewhat  out  of  breath,  and,  suffering 
from  the  effects  of  Hooligan's  drink,  he  fell  back  before  a 
rush  of  black  smoke.  He  seemed  to  sober  up  in  a  moment, 
and,  drawing  a  long  breath,  he  drew  his  coat  over  his  head  and 
face,  and  rushed  for  the  stairs.  Mort  and  Phipps  grabbed  at 
him  in  an  effort  to  detain  him. 

They  were  too  late,  however;  Scully  was  lost  in  the  dense 
smoke  that  poured  out  from  the  front  door  and  down  the 
stairs  leading  from  the  Murphy  apartment.  As  he  entered,  a 
shout  arose  from  the  assembled  crowd ;  women  fainted,  men 
turned  away  at  the  terrible  spectacle ;  up  the  stairs  he  ran, 
reaching  the  landing;  it  was  but  a  few  steps  to  the  sleeping 


A   BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY.  19 

apartment  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Murphy.  When  Scully  reached 
the  door  tongues  of  flame  were  already  breaking  through  it — 
to  enter  was  hopeless.  He  groped  along  the  short  passage  and 
entered  the  small  room  in  which  Tony  lay.  He  felt  weak; 
the  smoke  was  suffocating  him.  He  groped  around,  felt  the 
bed,  and,  finding  a  body  in  it,  snatched  it  up  in  his  arms,  and, 
turning,  made  for  the  direction  by  which  he  had  entered. 

If  time  had  permitted  he  might  have  found  an  exit  by  the 
rear,  but  there  was  no  time  to  enter  on  a  voyage  of  discovery. 
As  he  staggered  to  the  front  door  with  the  body  in  his  arms, 
the  door  leading  to  Murphy's  bedroom  gave  way  with  a  crash, 
fire  belched  forth,  scorching  his  face  and  hands.  He  jumped 
for  the  few  steps,  still  bearing  his  burden  in  his  arms,  and 
rolled  into  the  street,  to  be  picked  up  by  a  hundred  willing 
hands,  the  crowd  assembled  at  the  same  time  giving  a  roar  of 
approval  that  nearly  drowned  out  the  clang  of  the  fire  engine 
that  was  just  then  turning  the  corner  of  the  street,  followed  by 
the  reel  and  ladder. 

To  those  who  have  seen  Chicago's  magnificent  fire  depart- 
ment in  play  a  brief  statement  will  suffice. 

Other  engines  followed  in  rapid  succession.  Hose  was  at- 
tached to  different  plugs,  engines  snorted,  chiefs  shouted  in- 
structions, the  water  began  to  belch  forth  from  the  nozzles 
attached  to  the  hose,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  fire  was  as 
effectually  quenched  as  if  the  building  had  been  covered  by  a 
huge  extinguisher,  which  completely  shut  out  the  oxyeren.  But 
Murphy  and  his  wife  had  perished  in  the  flames — poor  Tony, 
whom  Scully  had  so  miraculously  saved,  was  the  sole  survivor 
of  the  entire  family. 

Mike  Scully,  in  a  state  bordering  on  collapse,  through  the 
effect  of  the  excitement,  the  smoke  he  had  inhaled  and  the 
drink  he  had  taken  during  the  evening,  was  led  into  Hooligan's, 
followed  by  a  crowd,  who  were  eager  to  get  a  glimpse  at 
the  man  who  had  so  heroically  risked  his  own  life  in  the 
attempt  to  save  that  of  others.  Newcomers  craned  their  necks 
to  get  a  look  at  "the  man  of  the  hour,"  or  listened  attentively 
to  the  stories  of  those  who  had  been  eye-witnesses.  The  bar 
was  soon  crowded  from  end  to  end,  keeping  Hooligan  and 


20  A  BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY. 

Rock,  whom  he  had  pressed  into  the  service,  busy  serving 
drinks. 

It  was  not  so  long  ere  the  night  reporters  arrived  to  get 
the  story  for  the  morning  papers.  They  importuned  HooHgan 
as  the  most  important  personage  present  to  give  them  the  par- 
ticulars. Hooligan  in  advance  insisted  they  should  have 
something  and  give  him  time  to  collect  his  thoughts.  "I  am  so 
put  out,"  he  moaned. 

He  pointed  to  Scully,  who  was  sitting  on  a  chair  in  a  corner 
surrounded  by  his  friends,  some  of  them  pushing  the  crowd 
back,  telling  them  to  give  him  air.  He  was  hardly  conscious; 
some  were  fanning  him  with  their  hats ;  Henry  Mort,  with  all 
the  tenderness  of  a  mother  over  her  baby,  was  bathing  his 
forehead  and  moistening  his  lips  with  brandy  and  water. 

The  time  was  passing  with  the  news  gatherers,  as  the  early 
morning  edition  was  then  ready  for  the  press,  so  Hooligan 
was  appealed  to  for  information.  He  gave  the  names  of  the 
victims  in  full ;  said  "they  were  highly  respected  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. I  am  as  sorry  for  them  as  if  they  were  my  brother 
and  sister.  Murphy  was  a  hard-working  man,  but  had  been 
out  of  employment  for  some  time ;  he  occasionally  visited  my 
place — in  fact  he  had  looked  in  that  evening  and  talked  with 
some  of  the  neighbors  who  happened  to  be  in  at  the  time.  I 
was  about  to  close,  at  12  o'clock,  according  to  my  regular  cus- 
tom, when  Mrs.  Murphy,  who  was  passing,  called  for  her 
husband,  and  they  went  away  together." 

"Had  Murphy  been  drinking?"  inquired  one  of  the  reporters. 

"He  had  a  drink  or  two,"  replied  Hooligan,  "but  nothing 
worth  mentioning.  They  have  but  one  child,  a  boy  about  ten 
years  old.  My  friend  in  the  corner,  Mr.  Michael  Scully,  res- 
cued him  by  jumping  into  the  fire  and  dragging  him  out.  How 
the  fire  started  I  don't  know — the  lamp  must  have  exploded. 
The  first  I  heard  of  it  was  when  the  alarm  was  given.  As  I 
said,  I  had  closed  my  place  at  the  usual  hour,  and  was 
talking  to  a  few  friends  about  a  business  affair.  It  was  a 
blessing  I  was,  or  poor  little  Tony  would  have  burned  up 
with  the  rest."     He  was  asked  as  to  the  names  and  occupa- 


A  BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY.  21 

tions  of  Mike  Scully  and  his  associates.  "They  are  all  neigh- 
bors' children.    I  don't  know  just  what  they  work  at." 

As  there  was  little  time  to  spare,  and  as  they  had  news 
enough  to  make  a  good  story,  they  folded  their  copy,  shoved 
it.  into  their  pockets  and  made  a  rush  for  the  door. 

"Here,  take  something  before  you  go." 

"No  time,  Mr.  Hooligan,  will  see  you  later." 

"Well,  have  a  cigar."  Hooligan  reached  his  hand  back  to  the 
board  at  the  rear  of  the  bar  and  presented  the  box.  The  four 
of  them  dove  their  hands  into  it,  taking  one  each,  and  away 
they  ran. 

Scully's  vigorous  constitution  soon  asserted  itself.  Rising 
from  the  chair,  he  pushed  aside  those  who  were  fanning  him. 
"I  am  all  right  now,  but  what  has  become  of  the  kid?  I 
suppose  it's  all  over  with  poor  Murphy  and  the  wife  ?" 

"Dead  as  door  nails,"  replied  Hart. 

The  crowd  pressed  closer  to  get  a  better  view  of  Scully. 

A  man  a  little  better  dressed  than  the  average  of  those 
present  insisted  upon  the  honor  of  treating  him.  He  had  been 
an  eye  witness  of  what  had  taken  place.' 

Mike  thanked  him,  but  said  he  did  not  feel  like  taking  any- 
thing— he  was  a  little  sick. 

Hooligan,  knowing  the  cure-all  in  every  case,  put  up  the 
black  bottle. 

The  gentleman,  who  was  unknown  to  all  present,  signaled 
Hooligan  to  serve  them  all.  Squinty  Rock  walked  along  the 
bar,  asking  them  all  what  they  would  take.  After  the  drinks 
were  served.  Hooligan  picked  up  a  five  dollar  bill  that  the 
gentleman  had  laid  on  the  counter,  and,  looking  along  the  line, 
as  if  he  was  counting  them,  turned  to  the  cash  register  and 
rang  up  the  five.  Before  leaving,  the  gentleman  pulled  out  his 
card  case,  and,  handing  one  to  Mike  Scully,  shook  hands 
with  him,  said  he  was  proud  to  make  his  acquaintance,  and 
left.  After  he  was  gone,  Scully  looked  at  the  card  and  saw 
that  it  bore  the  name  of  F.  P.  King,  a  then  rising  young 
lawyer. 

Many  stayed;  other  drinks  were  ordered  and  drank,  until 
the  break  of  day,  when  the  crowd  dispersed,  Scully  and  his 


22  A   BRAWL  AND  A  TRAGEDY. 

friends  going  to  the  rooming  house  on  Halsted  street,  where 
they  stopped  to  get  a  few  hours'  sleep,  and  Squinty  Rock 
remaining  until  Hooligan  figured  up  the  register,  which 
showed  up  beyond  his  most  sanguine  expectations.  "A  very 
good  night,"  he  remarked  to  Squinty,  giving  him  two  silver 
dollars,  as  he  folded  the  bills  to  put  in  his  pocket. 

"A  very  bad  night,"  said  Squinty,  just  as  the  newsboys  could 
be  heard  shouting  on  the  street : 

"Full  account  of  the  great  fire  on  the  west  side — two  lives 
lost !" 

"Get  me  one  of  those  papers,  Squinty ;  let  us  hear  what  they 
have  to  say."     Rock  went  out  and  brought  in  the  paper. 

There  were  great  scare  headlines — "Disastrous  fire  on  the 
west  side — two  lives  lost;  heroic  rescue  of  the  son  of  the  two 
victims ;  miraculous  escape  of  the  rescuer  from  the  burning 
building!"  followed  by  a  column  of  closely  printed  matter 
giving  a  graphic  description  of  the  locality  and  its  surround- 
ings, a  brief  history  of  the  deceased,  a  vivid  picture  of  the 
rescue  by  Scully,  and  the  probable  cause  of  the  fire. 

But  not  a  word  about  Hooligan — not  even  the  mention  of 
his  name.  He  read  it  carefully,  expecting  that  he  would  be 
a  headliner.  As  he  put  the  paper  down,  he  said  to  himself: 
"Well,  that's  a  pretty  cold  deal !" 

The  day  man  having  arrived.  Hooligan  left  for  his  home, 
fully  conscious  of  a  day  and  night  well  spent.  Reaching  the 
Holy  Family  church,  which  was  on  his  way.  he  took  olT  his 
hat  and  held  it  in  his  hand  while  passing. 


Chapter  IV. 

FACING  THE  WORLD. 

On  the  Friday  morning  on  which  applications  were  to  be 
made  for  employment  at  the  great  Cleveland  store,  Florence 
Burdett  was  up  early.  She  was  determined  to  make  a  good 
appearance;  so  dressed  herself  neatly  in  her  most  attractive 
raiment,  combed  and  brushed  her  hair  with  as  much  care  as 


FACING  THE  WORLX).  23 

if  it  were  the  morning  of  her  wedding;  it  was  arranged  in 
German  fashion,  two  long  braids  down  her  back,  and  shone 
like  amber  and  was  nearly  the  color. 

She  wore  short  skirts,  which  reached  to  the  tops  of  her 
laced  boots.  "How  do  I  look,  mama?"  she  inquired,  when  she 
was  about  ready  to  start  out. 

"You  look  all  right,  Florence.  I  am  sure  there  will  be  few 
if  any  of  the  girls  who  may  apply  more  presentable.  I  don't 
know  whether  to  be  vexed  or  pleased  at  your  going." 

Florence  was  in  high  spirits  as  she  kissed  her  mother  good- 
bye. She  felt  that  she  was  going  to  push  her  fortune  and 
had  but  one  ambition — to  help  the  mother  she  loved  so  dearly. 

She  had  started  out  early,  determined  to  be  amongst  the 
first  to  make  application. 

On  arriving  at  the  alley  in  which  the  place  to  apply  was  situ- 
ated, her  heart  sank  within  her,  for  there  in  advance  of  her 
arrival  were  girls  by  the  hundreds — little  and  big,  fat  and 
lean,  long  and  short,  blonds  and  brunettes — some  neatly 
dressed,  others  whose  attire  gave  proof  of  their  poverty- 
stricken  condition ;  there  were  some  whose  little  pinched  faces 
and  anxious  looks  were  a  sure  index  of  their  desire  to  secure 
places.  Many  others,  who,  like  Florence,  were  neatly  dressed, 
stood  back  as  if  indififerent  as  to  whether  they  secured  employ- 
ment, or  had  perhaps  lost  hope  when  they  saw  the  surging 
crowd  in  advance  of  them  that  already  blocked  their  way 
towards  the  entrance. 

Two  policemen,  one  on  either  side  of  the  door,  attempted 
to  keep  order.  They  had  to  submit  to  the  jokes  of  the  girls, 
many  of  which  might  be  considered  rude. 

The  Great  Cleveland  store's  employment  bureau  had  not 
opened  its  labor  headquarters  before  Florence  found  herself 
mixed  up  in  the  jam,  many  coming  after  her,  so  she  might  have 
said,  with  Macbeth,  "There  is  no  going  forward  or  tarrying 
here."  There  she  had  to  stay,  until  the  managers  of  the 
establishment  saw  fit  to  throw  open  their  portals.  When  they 
did  there  was  a  surging  forward. 

A  young  fellow,  whose  classic  features  showed  his  race,  gave 
orders  :    "Officer,  keep  those  girls  in  line."      "Now,  girls,  keep 


24  FACING  THE   WORLD. 

back,  keep  back,"  was  the  remonstrance  of  the  pohceman,  as 
some  of  the  more  aggressive  struggled  to  get  towards  the  front. 

Florence  began  to  wish  she  were  at  home,  but  retreat  was 
impossible.  "Who  are  you  pushing?"  was  a  frequent  com- 
plaint. "Leave  me  my  hat,"  remarked  others,  whose  millinery 
had  become  deranged.  "You're  on  my  skirts,"  was  the  protest 
of  many. 

The  young  man  at  the  door  looked  back  into  the  rear  of 
where  he  was  standing,  and,  seeming  to  have  got  some  signal, 
turned  around  and  said :  "Now,  only  a  few  at  a  time — there, 
that  will  do,"  when  about  twenty  of  the  girls  had  broken  in, 
some  badly  mussed  up  in  the  effort. 

They  were  lined  up  in  Indian  file,  a  young  fellow  bemg 
there  to  keep  them  in  place.  A  man  sat  behind  a  desk,  pencil 
in  hand.  Before  him  was  a  small  block  of  paper.  One  could 
see  by  glancing  at  his  countenance  he  was  neither  Celt  or 
Teuton.  The  first  to  reach  him  was  a  little  girl  poorly  clad. 
She  was  nervous  in  her  anxiety  to  secure  a  place.  She  had 
stood  two  hours  before  the  door,  jammed  against  it  by  the 
pressure  from  behind.  As  soon  as  the  door  had  been  opened 
she  was  pushed  forward. 

The  man  at  the  desk  looked  at  her  and  lowered  his 
shaggy  eyebrows. 

"You  won't  do." 

"Why^  sir,  I  am  sure — if  you  give  me  a  trial." 

"You're  too  little.     How  old  are  you?" 

"Sixteen,  sir."  This  was  a  fib,  but  the  angel  who  keeps  the 
records  will  never  use  it  against  her. 

The  man  behind  the  desk  beckoned  to  his  assistant  to  keep 
her  moving. 

"But  my  mother,  sir — we  are  poor." 

"O,  I've  no  time  to  listen  to  your  story." 

"Come — this  way  out,  miss."  said  the  usher,  and  the  poor 
little  destitute  one  was  shoved  towards  the  main  entrance  that 
led  to  the  street. 

"What's  your  name?"  This  was  addressed  to  a  medium- 
sized  girl  who  was  neatly  dressed.  "Mary  Jones,"  sir.  He 
wrote  her  name  on  a  slip  of  paper,  the  usher  told  her  to  go 


FACING  THE  WORLD.  25 

up  to  the  second  floor  and  wait  till  she  was  wanted — she  was 
one  of  the  elect. 

The  next  applicant  was  poorly  dressed.  He  looked  at  her 
for  a  moment  (seeing  at  a  glance  that  she  was  the  proper  size 
and  age),  told  her  to  come  back  tomorrow — he  would  see  what 
he  could  do  for  her.  This  instruction  was  given  to  her  for  fear 
he  would  not  get  enough  of  suitable  stock  in  answer  to  his  first 
advertisement. 

"How   old  are  you?" 

"Sixteen,   sir." 

"Sixteen?  Why,  you  look  as  if  you  were  thirty;  you  won't 
do." 

"Next — Well,  what's  your  name?" 

"Genevieve  Brown,  sir." 

"Well,  Genevieve ;  here's  a  slip  for  you." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"Come,  be  lively  there,  talk  as  you  go  out,"  and  the  two  that 
were  caught  whispering  were  kept  going  towards  the  front 
door  without  any  inquiry  as  to  their  names  or  ages; 

"We  can't  have  any  chumming  here,"  remarked  the  man 
behind  the  desk.    "We  are  here  for  business." 

One  of  the  girls  gave  a  look  back  at  him,  which  she  sin- 
cerely hoped  would  paralyze  him. 

Out  of  the  first  twenty  he  secured  but  six.  About  one 
hundred  and  sixty  had  gone  in  before  Florence  reached  the 
door.  Many  of  those  who  had  been  rejected  came  back  to 
the  alley  and  gave  vent  to  their  feelings  in  expressions  far 
from  complimentary  to  the  manager  of  the  Great  Cleveland 
store.  Florence  had  long  since  given  up  all  hope  of  securing 
a  place,  nor  did  she  care.  She  had  heard  some  of  the  un- 
complimentary allusions  to  the  concern.  There  was,  how- 
ever, only  one  way  for  her  to  go,  and  that  was  forward. 

At  length  she  reached  the  desk  of  the  despot.  He  looked 
at  her  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  in  the  smoothest  tones,  in- 
quired : 

"What  is  your  name,  Miss?" 

"Florence  Burdett,  sir." 


26  FACING  THE  WORLD. 

"Where  were  you  employed  before,  Miss  Burdett?" 

"I  never  worked  any  place  before,  sir." 

"Indeed."  He  looked  at  her  so  pointedly  that  she  cast  her 
eyes  down.  She  began  to  think  that  probably  he  thought 
she  was  telling  an  untruth,  so  she  reaffirmed  her  former  state- 
ment with  the  addition  that  she  had  always  gone  to  school. 

"Well,  Florence,  I  will  give  you  a  trial,"  and  Florence  was 
ushered  to  the  second  floor,  where  she  found  about  sixty  girls 
already  in  waiting. 

When  all  the  selections  had  been  made  from  the  applicants, 
the  man  who  had  given  them  the  slips  came  upstairs  and  made 
a  little  speech  to  them,  saying:  "Now,  girls,  what  we  want  is 
cash  girls;  that  is,  to  take  the  goods  and  the  cash  to  the 
counter  where  the  wrapping  is  done;  see  that  the  goods  are 
wrapped  up,  get  the  change,  if  any,  and  return  to  the  saleslady, 
giving  her  the  parcel  and  whatever  change  there  is.  You  will 
find  it  very  simple.  You  will  have  to  attend  strictly  to  busi- 
ness, nothing  else  goes  here;  those  who  are  proven  worthy  by 
their  industry  and  intelligence,  we  will  probably  keep  after  the 
busy  season  is  over.  Some  of  you  may  get  a  counter  if  I 
think  you  are  worthy  of  it."  As  he  made  this  remark  he 
looked  over  at  Florence,  who  was  listening  attentively,  and 
who,  without  a  thought,  nodded  her  head  as  if  in  approval. 

"Miss  Levy,  you  will  take  their  addresses.  I  may  assign 
some  of  them  today.  The  rest  I  will  tell  when  to  report  for 
duty."  With  this  he  turned  away  and  left  them.  It  was 
long  past  lunch  time  when  he  returned.  Many  of  the  girls 
felt  faint.  Miss  Levy  gave  him  the  list,  he  scanned  it  over. 
seemed  in  doubt  for  a  moment,  and  then  told  them  to  report 
Monday  morning  at  8  o'clock  prompt. 

Florence,  who  had  walked  all  the  way  home,  was  nearly 
famished.  Her  mother  had  her  lunch  ready  for  her,  and  sat 
down  beside  her  to  listen  to  the  girl's  experience,  while  she 
was  eating. 

"My !  mother,  there  were  hundreds  of  them.  The  gentleman 
was  very  kind  to  me ;  when  I  told  him  I  never  worked  before, 
he  would  hardlv  believe  me.     Mv!  what  a  fine  store  it  is,  and 


FACING  THE  WORLD.  27 

such  nice  ladies  behind  the  counters — I  think  I'll  like  it,  and 
you'll  see  I'll  do  well." 

Her  mother  smiled  at  her  enthusiasm,  so  said  nothing  to 
discourage  her. 

On  the  following  Monday  morning  the  girls  were  furnished 
a  uniform,  consisting  of  a  long  striped  slip,  and  a  brass  tag 
with  a  number  on  it.  Florence's  was  No.  71.  They  were  all 
assigned  to  different  floors  by  the  manager.  Florence  was  sent 
to  the  one  on  which  was  located  the  ladies'  cloaks  and  mil- 
linery. She  was  shown  where  the  wrapping  counter  and  cash- 
ier for  the  department  was  located. 

"Cash!  Cash!  Cash !"  shouted  a  young  saleslady.  "Here," 
shouted  Florence,  running  towards  her,  "Here,  71,"  and  some 
goods  and  money  were  given  her.  She  rushed  off  with  them. 
Ere  noontime  had  come  No.  71  had  made  many  journeys  to 
and  from  the  wrapping  counter. 

Under  the  sidewalk  fronting  the  Great  Cleveland  store  there 
was  a  space  partitioned  off  where  the  cash  girls  hung  up  their 
outer  garments  and  their  hats.  The  place  served  the  double 
purpose  of  toilet  and  dining  room ;  at  noon  the  girls  came 
here  in  batches  and  arranged  to  eat  their  lunch.  Most  of 
them  had  sandwiches,  some  with  an  addition  of  a  little  pie, 
which  they  washed  down  with  a  drink  of  water.  A  few 
brought  a  little  tea  or  coffee  in  a  flask  or  bottle,  which  they 
had  to  drink  cold.  On  the  first  day  of  Florence's  service  she 
retired  with  others.  When  she  entered  the  place  she  saw  a 
number  of  strange  faces,  some  of  whom  were  old  hands.  They 
assembled  in  groups,  and  while  eating  discussed  subjects  that 
seemed  strange  to  her ;  she  went  to  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  place  and,  unwrapping  her  sandwich,  a  piece  of  pie  and 
an  apple  her  mother  had  provided  her  with,  she  ate  it  standing; 
taking  one  of  the  tin  cups  that  was  chained  close  by  the  water 
faucet,  she  washed  her  frugal  meal  down  with  a  drink  of  water 
and  awaited  the  ringing  of  a  gong  that  was  in  the  place  to 
summon  her  to  her  work.  On  the  third  day,  while  at  lunch, 
two  other  girls,  a  Miss  Brown  and  a  Miss  Jones,  who  had 
come  to  work  on  the  same  day  that  she  did,  came  over  and 


28  FACING  THE  WORLD. 

Spoke  to  her.  "How  do  you  like  your  job?"  said  the  Brown 
girl,  addressing  her. 

"All  right,"  replied  Florence. 

"We  have  to  work  for  all  we  get  here,"  remarked  Miss 
Jones. 

The  first  who  spoke  seemed  to  be  a  very  well  behaved  girl, 
about  Florence's  own  age.  "My!"  she  exclaimed  in  an  under- 
tone, "but  there  are  some  brazen  things  employed  here." 

Florence  looked  blank.  She  had  kept  herself  aloof  from  the 
crowd  and  had  not  noticed  anything. 

Just  at  this  moment  there  was  an  altercation  at  the  other  end 
of  the  room.  "I'm  just  as  good  as  you  are,"  one  was  saying, 
"and  I'll  do  just  as  I  please."  "Oh,  you're  sharp,  you  think. 
It's  not  your  good  looks  that  strikes  him,"  said  the  other 
sneeringly. 

"Well,  as  long  as  he  thinks  I'm  all  right  it  don't  matter  to 
you,  and  I  never  heard  that  you  got  a  prize  in  a  beauty  show, 
either." 

"You  can  keep  him  for  all  I  care ;  I  don't  want  him." 

"Well,  I  noticed  that  the  other  night  at  the  dance,  you 
slobbered  all  over  him." 

"Me  slobbered  over  him !"  replied  the  other,  assuming  a  more 
belligerent  attitude.     "Me  slobber  over  him !" 

"Sour  grapes !"  replied  her  opponent. 

Just  then  the  bell  rang,  which  ended  the  controversy  for 
the  time  being. 

Florence  and  the  other  two  girls  whose  acquaintance  she 
had  made  looked  at  one  another  as  they  left  to  attend  to  their 
work. 

Florence,  Miss  Jones  and  Miss  Brown  generally  went  to 
lunch  together.  During  the  half  hour  allowed  them,  they 
chatted  socially ;  occasionally  they  talked  of  the  events  hap- 
pening in  the  big  store,  or  listened  to  the  noisy  controversies 
that  were  taking  place  between  others. 

"My !"  said  Miss  Brown,  "you  should  hear  what  some  of 
them  say  about  one  another." 

"Yes,  it's  a  disgrace,"  said  Miss  Jones.     "Hear  them  now." 

"Well,  what  if  I  did,  that's  my  business,"  one  was  heard  say- 


FACING  THE  WORLD. 


29 


ing.     "If  1  did  stay  out  with  him,  what's  that  to  do  with  you?" 

"Oh,  get  out,  you  little  cat,"  replied  the  other,  who  was 
about  an  inch  bigger. 

"Come,  now,  Minnie,"  chimed  in  another,  "you're  just  a 
little  jealous  of  Margy." 

"Me  jealous  of  her?  Well,  I  should  smile!  I  wouldn't  be 
seen  going  to  a  dog  fight  with  him — he  is  not  in  my  class.  See 
how  he  shook  Tillie  Birg,  when  she  got  into  trouble  with  him." 

"He  did  right  to  shake  her  when  he  caught  her  dead  to 
rights  with  dat  slob  Mike  Farley,"  replied  Margy. 

The  bell  rang  time  on  them  and  the  round  >yas  over,  to  be 
renewed  at  the  first  opportunity. 

As  soon  as  the  holiday  season  was  over  there  was  a  general 
dismissal  of  the  girls,  few  of  the  new  girls  being  retained. 
Those  who  had  been  kept  were  the  ones  who  had  proven 
themselves  well  worthy  of  the  very  small  stipend  that  was 
allowed  them.  The  regular  trade  required  a  better  grade  of 
girls.  Miss  Burdett,  Miss  Brown  and  Miss  Jones  were  in  this 
class,  so  the  day  after  the  stafif  had  been  reduced  the  three 
girls  met  and  congratulated  one  another.  Some  of  those  who 
had  proven  quarrelsome  were  also  let  go,  so  that  there 
was  a  much  smaller  muster  at  lunch  time.  Margy  was 
amongst  those  still  remaining,  and  gloated  over  the  fact  that 
Minnie,  and  a  few  others  who  seemed  hostile  to  her,  had  got 
the  "grand  bounce."  She  determined  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  the  three  girls,  so  remarked  to  them :  "Well,  girls,  I  see  you 
are  going  to  stay.  I  suppose  some  of  you  will  be  getting 
counters  in  a  short  time.  T  am  going  to  wrap — that  means  a 
dollar  more  per." 

"I  am  pleased  to  hear  that,"  remarked  Miss  Brown. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Margy,  continuing:  "You  see,  I  am  no 
scholar,  but  I  am  sure  you  girls  will  be  promoted  in  a  short 
while.     I  hope  you  will,  anyhow." 

This  kindly  piece  of  information,  coupled  with  her  good 
wish,  made  the  girls  feel  kindly  disposed  toward  her. 


Chapter  V. 


THE   MORGUE. 


The  inquest  over  the  remains  of  the  Murphys  was  to  be 
held  the  following  day.  Scully  and  his  friends  started  early,  so 
as  to  be  able  to  visit  the  morgue. 

Scully  was  far  from  well.  He  was  still  suffering  from  the 
effects  of  the  smoke  and  drink,  his  face  pained  him  where  the 
heat  from  the  flames  had  reached  him  in  passing  the  Murphy 
bedroom  door  with  Tony  in  his  arms. 

On  their  arrival  at  the  morgue,  with  its  terrible  memories, 
a  settled  calm  seemed  to  come  over  the  crowd.  They  were  in 
the  presence  of  the  dead.     The  place  was  cold  and  dismal. 

On  a  slab  close  to  the  entrance  lay  the  remains  of  a  young 
woman  who  had  been  taken  from  the  river  that  morning. 

Her  face  was  bloated,  froth  stood  on  her  lips,  her  hair  was 
damp  and  disorderly,  as  it  lay  around  the  support  on  which  her 
head  rested. 

The  man  at  the  morgue  said  that  most  likely  she  was  an 
unfortunate  who  had  lost  all  hope,  tired  of  life  and  committed 
suicide. 

"She  was  somebody's  child,  poor  thing,"  remarked  Scully 
to  Mort. 

On  another  slab  lay  a  negro.  He  had  been  cut  with  a  razor 
in  the  hands  of  another  man  of  color,  who  had  used  the  weapon 
so  deftly  as  to  have  severed  the  jugular  vein.  It  was  said  they 
had  quarreled  over  a  white  woman  with  whom  both  were  inti- 
mate.   "It  was  a  case  of  jealousy,"  remarked  the  attendant. 

On  another  slab  lay  a  workman  who  had  fallen  from  a 
scaffold  the  day  before.  He  was  brought  in  unconscious  and 
had  died  ere  his  wife  could  reach  his  side.  He  had  four  little 
children  depending  on  him.  He  would  be  removed  that  after- 
noon, as  a  committee  from  his  union  had  been  there  and  had 
given  notice  to  the  undertaker  who  was  coming  for  him. 

There  was  the  corpse  of  a  little  girl  who  had  suffered  from 


THE  MORGUE.  31 

hip  disease  and  had  died  while  undergoing  an  operation.  "Her 
parents,"  remarked  the  attendant,  "are  so  poor  that  they  would 
be  unable  to  remove  her  until  some  friends  who  were  out 
soliciting  a  collection  would  enable  them  to  do  so.  This  poor 
child  suffered  a  great  deal,"  said  the  man  sympathetically.  "It 
is  just  as  well  she  is  dead." 

This  recital  seemed  to  affect  the  boys  very  much — even  Hart 
and  Rock,  callous  as  they  were,  gazed  on  the  little  pinched  face 
of  the  girl,  who,  judging  from  her  appearance,  would  be  about 
thirteen  years  of  age  and  had  suffered  from  the  time  she  was 
an  infant. 

Others  who  had  died  in  the  hospital,  or  who  had  been 
brought  in  by  the  ambulance  but  a  day  or  two  before,  were 
awaiting  claimants.  Others,  friendless  or  unknown,  would  be 
used  in  the  dissecting  rooms  to  furnish  subjects  for  the  profes- 
sion, and  to  perhaps  enable  the  doctors  to  discover  the  causes 
of  certain  complaints,  and  by  that  means  find  a  remedy  from 
which  others  might  profit. 

Side  by  side  on  two  separate  slabs  lay  the  remains  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Murphy.     Murphy's  face  was  covered  with  a  sheet,, 
as  he  had  been  severely  burnt. 

His  wife  lay  as  calm  and  composed  as  if  she  was  asleep.  The 
group  that  gathered  where  they  lay  looked  very  solemn — not  a 
word  was  spoken  for  some  moments.  At  length  the  silence  was 
broken  by  Mort,  remarking:  "She  must  have  been  a  very  hand- 
some woman  in  her  day." 

Scully  stood  as  one  transfixed.  He  remembered  the  incident 
of  her  coming  into  Hooligan's  on  that  fatal  night  to  seek 
her  husband.  He  saw  her  as  if  she  stood  before  him.  He 
remembered  his  invitation  to  her,  "Come  in,  Mrs.  Murphy, 
won't  you  take  something?"  and  of  her  accepting  his  treat. 
Oh,  how  he  wished  it  hadn't  occurred,  but  instead  that  he  had 
said  to  Murphy,  who  was  then  pretty  well  intoxicated, 
"Murphy,  go  home  with  your  wife — this  is  no  place  for  you 
to  keep  her  waiting."  He  stood  still,  gazing  on  the  face  of 
the  victim,  until  Mort  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  said, 
"Mike,  come  along — we've  seen  enough  of  this."    And  so  they 


32  THE   MORGUE. 

departed  from  that  temporary  resting  place  of  the  unfortunate, 
and  oft-times  forsaken,  dead. 

The  inquest  on  the  Murphys  was  a  mere  formal  affair.  Both 
coroner  and  jury  had  read  of  the  facts  in  the  case  in  the  papers 
of  the  previous  day.  The  remains  were  identified,  after  which 
the  doctor  testified  that  the  immediate  cause  of  death  was  suf- 
focation ;  that  the  fire  had  not  reached  the  body  of  the  female, 
and  that  while  the  male  was  burned  somewhat  about  the  neck 
and  face-,  those  injuries  of  themselves  were  not  sufficient  to 
cause  death. 

A  representative  of  the  fire  department  testified  as  to  how 
the  bodies  were  found,  and  that  in  his  opinion  the  fire  was 
caused  by  the  accidental  upsetting  or  explosion  of  a  lamp.  So 
a  verdict  was  found  in  accordance  with  the  evidence. 

To  Hooligan's  relief,  there  was  no  reference  to  the  condi- 
tion of  the  Murphys  when  they  left  his  establishment,  or  the 
fracas  that  had  taken  place  previous  to  their  departure,  the 
coroner  having  no  time  to  waste  on  such  details. 

Hooligan,  in  the  fullness  of  his  generous  business  practices, 
invited  the  coroner's  jury  and  gentlemen  of  the  press  who  were 
present  to  come  and  take  something  with  him.  He  also  wanted 
Scully  and  his  friends  to  go  along,  but  as  Scully  was  in  no 
mood  to  be  sociable,  he  and  his  friends  declined. 

The  boys  were  approaching  a  restaurant  on  their  way  from 
the  county  hospital,  when  Bert  remarked :  "Isn't  it  about  time 
we  eat?" 

"I  guess  it  is,"  said  Hart.  "I'm  about  famished,  and  after 
that  sight  in  the  morgue  I  feel  I  require  something  to  brace 
me  up.", 

"Well,  let  us  go  in  here,"  said  Phipps.  After  they  had  been 
seated  and  had  given  their  order,  Mort,  turning  to  Scully,  said : 
"I  wonder  who  is  going  to  bury  the  Murphys?" 

"Why,. the  county,  to  be  sure,"  replied  Hart.     "Who  else?" 

"I  am  decidedly  opposed  to  the  county  burying  them,"  said 
Scully.,.  "Bart  was  a  good  fellow  in  his  day — many's  the  dollar 
he  gave  up  to  pay  funeral  expenses." 

Hart,  who  was  a  rank  materialist,  chimed  in:  "What's 
the,  difference?    I  don't  see  any  use  in  going  to  much  trouble 


THE  MORGUE.  33 

over  a  pair  of  stiffs — they're  dead,  and  that's  the  end  of  them." 

Rock  agreed  with  Hart.  "If  anything  should  happen  to  me 
I  don't  want  you  fellows  to  go  to  any  trouble.  I'd  just  as  soon 
be  thrown  in  the  lake." 

"No  fear,"  said  Bert,  "when  you're  laid  out,  to  the  soap 
man  with  you." 

This  sally  caused  a  laugh  at  Rock's  expense. 

"Well,  I  think  we  could  raise  enough  money  to  give  them 
a  decent  funeral,"  remarked  Scully.  Mort,  Bert  and  Phipps 
agreed  with  him. 

"Why,  it  will  take  over  a  hundred  bones  to  give  them  any 
kind  of  a  set-off,"  said  Hart,  "and  I  don't  see  where  we're 
going  to  get  it." 

"Well,  we'll  try,"  said  Scully,  in  a  positive  manner,  which 
settled  the  controversy,  Hart  and  Rock  knowing  full  well  when 
Mike  made  up  his  mind  there  was  no  use  of  offering  further 
objection. 

"I  suggest,  then,"  said  Mort,  "that  Phipps  make  out  a  few 
subscription  lists  and  that  we  meet  at  Hooligan's  tonight  to 
make  arrangements  about  collecting,  and  in  the  meantime  a 
couple  of  us  could  go  over  to  Bradley's  and  see  what  it  would 
cost." 

"Well,  I  propose  that  you  and  Scully  go  over  and  see  the 
undertaker,"  said  Bert,  which  was  agreed  upon. 

That  same  night,  as  prearranged,  they  met  at  Hooligan's. 
Mort  reported  they  had  seen  Bradley  and  told  him  they  were 
going  to  make  a  collection,  and  that  they  thought  they  could 
raise  enough  money  to  pay  the  funeral  expenses. 

"Bradley  told  us  to  go  ahead  and  do  the  best  we  could,  and 
that  he  would  take  care  of  the  funeral." 

"Bradley's  all  right,"  remarked  Bert ;  "many's  the  poor  fam- 
ily he  has  helped  out." 

The  question  of  a  wake  was  discussed,  but  had  to  be  aban- 
doned. There  was  no  time,  nor  had  they  a  suitable  place  to 
bring  the  dead. 

"Phipps,"  inquired  Scully,  "have  you  made  out  those  sub- 
scription lists?" 

"Yes,  here  they  are,"  taking  them  out  of  his  pocket.     Mort 


34  THE  MORGUE. 

took  one  of  the  lists  in  his  hand,  saying,  "Here,  Hooligan,  put 
your  name  to  this."  Hooligan  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said : 

"I  don't  think  you  should  expect  much  from  me — I  have 
lost  considerable  already,  as  Murphy  owed  me  quite  a  bit,  and 
of  course  it  is  all  lost  now." 

Scully,  who  had  little  patience  with  Hooligan,  said:  "Give 
over  crying,  and  let  us  know  how  much  you  feel  like  giving." 
Hooligan  thought  about  five  dollars  was  as  much  as  he  could 
afford. 

Scully  told  him  to  keep  it  and  buy  Moll  Runt  a  Christmas 
present  with  it.  "Oh,"  said  Joe  Phipps,  "put  him  down  for 
ten ;  he  is  getting  off  cheap  at  that." 

"That's  so,"  remarked  Squinty,  "for  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
Hooligan's  dope  Murphy  and  his  wife  would  be  living  yet." 

This  angered  Hooligan,  who  resented  any  inference  as  to 
the  legitimacy  of  his  business  or  the  virtue  of  the  goods  he 
vended.  "I  won't  stand  any  of  your  impudence,"  he  said, 
looking  fiercely  at  Rock ;  "nor  do  I  care"  for  your  custom." 

Squinty,  who  had  been  jn  hard  luck  for  some  time,  was  not 
bringing  much  grist  to  Hooligan's  mill.  Hart,  who  invariably 
stood  up  for  Squinty,  looking  at  Hooligan,  said:  "You 
needn't  get  so  gay." 

Henry  Mort,  seeing  a  storm  brewing,  poured  oil  on  the 
troubled  waters  by  remarking:  "This  is  no  time  for  a  quar- 
rel ;  you  can  afford  a  tenner.  Hooligan,  a  great  deal  better  than 
I  can;  and  I  am  going  to  give  a  ten-spot." 

Scully  promised  to  raise  ten,  Phipps,  Bert  and  Hart  were 
going  to  give  five  apiece.  Scully  remarked  that  "As  we  know 
Rock  is  in  hard  luck,  we'll  make  him  work  his  share  out.  We 
will  visit  the  stores  where  Mrs.  Murphy  traded,  but  as  for  the 
neighbors,  I  don't  suppose  we  will  be  able  to  get  much  from 
them." 

Bert  suggested  that  a  collection  on  the  train  would  realize 
something. 

"That's  so,"  said  Mort,  "but  if  it  does  we  should  do  some- 
thing for  Tony;  the  poor  kid  has  hardly  a  rag  to  his  back. 


THE  MORGUE.  35 

His  toes,  I  noticed  one  day,  were  sticking  out  through  his 
shoes." 

It  was  finally  decided  that  Hooligan  should  be  made  treas- 
urer. This  proved  a  sop  to  his  wounded  feelings,  as  he  dearly 
liked  to  be  placed  in  a  position  of  trust. 

Arrangements,  as  far  as  could  be  made  at  present,  seemed 
completed,  when  Bert,  looking  up  as  a  thought  struck  him, 
said: 

"What  about  the  church?" 

They  all  looked  embarrassed  at  this  inquiry.  Scully,  Mort, 
Bert  and  Phipps  were  strong  in  the  faith,  though  lamentably 
weak  in  practice. 

"Oh,  leave  that  to  Hooligan."  replied  Hart;  "he  is  all  right 
with  the  pastors." 

"Yes,"  said  Squinty  Rock,  laughing;  "perhaps  he  is  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Young  Men's  Sodality." 

"I  wouldn't  wonder,"  remarked  Hart.  "It  wouldn't  sur- 
prise me  if  he  isn't  a  member  in  good  standing  in  the  Father 
Matthews  Temperance  Society,  too.  I  know  he  has  the  presi- 
dent of  the  society  on  his  staff,  and  always  rounds  him  up  for 
the  good  alderman  when  he's  running." 

"That's  playing  both  ends  of  it,"  remarked  Bert. 

At  this  sally  even  Scully  had  to  smile.  "Such  is  politics," 
was  his  comment.  So  it  was  decided  to  refer  the  church  mat- 
ter to  Hooligan. 

During  the  latter  part  of  this  dialogue  Hooligan  was  out  of 
ear-shot,  attending  to  business  behind  his  bar,  having  left  the 
counsel  somewhat  abruptly  after  they  had  taxed  him  the  ten 
dollars. 

"I  think  some  of  you  should  go  over  and  see  how  Tony  is 
located,"  remarked  Scully. 

"Well,  that's  up  to  you,  Mike,"  said  Bert,  good-naturedly. 
"You  brought  him  into  the  world  again,  so  you  should  look 
after  him," 

Scully  smiled  at  the  compliment.  "W^ell,  Henry,  come  over 
with  me  and  we  will  see  how  the  poor  little  fellow  is  get- 
ting on." 

They   found   him  at   Mrs.   O'Brien's.     He   was   somewhat 


36  THE   MORGUE. 

composed,  though  Mrs.  O'Brien  informed  them  that  he  had 
cried  bitterly  when  he  learned  the  facts  of  his  mother's  and 
father's  death. 

"I  thought  he  would  break  his  heart,  poor  little  fellow,  God 
help  him!  We  had  a  visit  from  Father  Nolan,  who  left  this 
letter  for  you,"  handing  it  to  Scully.  "Mrs.  Great  sent  her 
sympathy  with  his  reverence  for  the  poor  boy,  and  said  she 
wanted  to  see  me  and  him  at  our  earliest  convenience." 

This  reminded  Scully  and  Mort  that  Mrs.  Great  had  a  repu- 
tation of  being  a  very  estimable  woman;  neither  had  any  ac- 
quaintance with  her,  but  they  resolved  to  visit  her  on  their 
mission  of  charity. 

"We  will  go  early  in  the  morning,"  suggested  Mort. 

After  asking  Mrs.  O'Brien  to  see  that  Tony  wanted  for 
nothing  for  the  next  couple  of  days  they  took  their  leave. 
Scully  and  Mort  went  back  to  Hooligan's,  where  Mike  opened 
the  letter  Mrs.  O'Brien  had  given  him.  After  reading  it  care- 
fully he  handed  it  over  to  Mort,  who  read  it  aloud. 

It  was  from  Father  Nolan,  requesting  Mr.  Scully  to  visit 
him  at  his  earliest  convenience. 

"I  hate  that  job,"  said  Scully.  "I  would  as  soon  go  to  the 
Bridewell.  I  know  if  I  go  I'm  in  for  a  roast,  and  the  worst  of 
it  is  I  can't  talk  back." 

"Oh,  what  are  you  afraid  of?"  said  Hart.  "A  little  lecture 
won't  do  you  any  hurt — take  it  in  one  ear  and  let  it  out  at 
the  other." 

Squinty  Rock,  seeing  room  for  mirth  in  Scully's  dilemma, 
volunteered  to  go  in  Mike's  place.  "I'll  talk  to  the  old 
duffer,"  he  remarked  with  a  grin. 

Scully  looked  threateningly  at  Rock.  "Be  a  little  more  care- 
ful in  your  remarks  about  the  priest,"  showing  some  anger. 
Scully  was  a  bad  man  who  had  many  crimes  to  answer  for, 
he  had  been  out  of  the  pale  of  the  church  for  many  years,  but 
there  were  two  things  that  he  still  held  sacred.  They  were 
his  race  and  his  religion,  and  the  man  that  would  belittle 
either  ran  a  risk  of  personal  injury.  His  early  training  could 
never  be  totally  obliterated.  He  had  often  heard  his  father 
talk  of  the  old  land,  and  the  man  who  would  insult  the  re- 


THR   MORGUE.  37 

ligion  of  his  mother  could  be  no  friend  of  his.  Rock,  seeing 
that  he  had  angered  him  by  his  disrespectful  remarks  about 
the  clergyman,  was  prompt  in  trying  to  make  amends. 

"I  meant  no  harm,  Mike!  It  was  only  a  joke  on  my  part, 
and  I'm  sorry  I  vexed  you."  Scully  closed  the  subject  by 
telling  them  he  would  call  upon  his  reverence  in  the  morning. 

"Now,  as  there  is  not  much  time  to  lose,"  said  Mort,  "I  sug- 
gest we  divide  up  in  pairs  and  start  out  in  the  morning  to  see 
what  we  can  collect." 

"Well,  Bert  and  I  will  go  together,"  said  Phipps. 

"I'll  go  with  Hart,"  said  Rock. 

"Then  Scully  and  I  will  go  out  and  do  the  best  we  can.  So 
let  us  have  a  drink,  and  we'll  go  home.  We'll  have  to  meet 
here  tomorrow  night  to  make  final  arrangements,  and  don't 
you  think  we'd  better  have  Bradley  here?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  said  Mike. 

"Well,  then,  what  is  it  to  be?" 

"I'll  take  a  cigar,"  said  Scully. 

"Hadn't  you  better  have  a  little  whisky  with  it?  It  seems 
to  me,  Mike,  you're  somewhat  out  of  sorts,"  said  Henry,  who 
was  ordering  the  treat. 

"No,  not  tonight,"  was  Mike's  answer  in  a  tone  which  pre- 
vented any  further  pressing. 


Chapter  VI. 


DEAD,  P.UT  NOT  FORGOTTEN. 

On  the  following  morning,  about  8,  Scully  and  Mort  called 
on  the  alderman's  wife.  The  girl  who  let  them  in  told  them 
that  Mrs.  Great  was  at  church,  but  would  be  home  at  any  min- 
ute. "V/ould  the  gentlemen  take  a  seat  in  the  parlor  and 
wait  till  the  missus  came?" 

Mort  asked  if  the  alderman  was  in ;  the  girl  said  he  was  not. 
Mort  gave  a  significant  look  over  at  Scully ;  the  girl  having  left 


38  DEAD,    BUT    NOT    FORGOTTEN. 

them,  he  said  to  Scully  in  an  undertone,  that  "Likely  he  had 
spent  the  night  at  one  of  his  down-town  rendezvous." 

"Perhaps  he  is  at  church,  too,"  replied  Scully  with  a  smile. 

In  a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Great  arrived.  After  removing  her 
wraps  she  entered  the  parlor.  Scully  and  Mort  rose.  Bidding 
them  good-morning,  she  told  them  to  be  seated  and  asked  them 
their  mission. 

On  Mort  informing  her  she  became  deeply  interested.  "I 
read  of  the  affair  in  the  papers  and  also  had  some  information 
from  Father  Nolan  in  reference  to  it.  I  suppose  you  are  Mr. 
Scully."  Mort  said,  "No,  this  is  Mr.  Scully,"  looking  over 
at  Mike. 

Mrs.  Great,  looking  Scully  full  in  the  face,  told  him  that  she 
knew  of  his  act  in  rescuing  the  little  boy,  "and  she  hoped  that 
he  was  as  good  as  he  was  brave — that  she  was  honored  by 
his  acquaintance.  I  understand  those  people  were  very  poor," 
she  continued,  "and  that  there  is  no  provision  for  the  funeral." 

Scully  told  her  that  was  the  case  and  what  they  had  decided 
on  doing. 

"I  sincerely  hope  that  you  will  be  able  to  raise  enough 
money  to  have  them  buried  without  the  aid  of  the  county." 
She  touched  a  bell,  her  maid  responded  to  the  call.  "Mary, 
make  me  out  a  check  for  twenty-five  dollars.  Who  will  I 
have  it  made  payable  to,  Mr.  Scully?" 

"To  Owen  Hooligan." 

"Is  that  the  Hooligan  who  keeps  the  saloon?"  she  inquired. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  replied  Mort. 

On  being  told  this,  it  could  be  noticed  by  the  sober  look  on 
her  countenance  that  it  was  not  pleasing  to  her.  However, 
she  told  the  girl,  who  seemed  to  act  as  secretary,  to  make  it 
out  as  instructed. 

Scully,  by  way  of  explanation,  told  her  that  the  fund  to 
pay  for  the  funeral  would  be  in  Mr.  Hooligan's  hands.  To 
this  she  made  no  reply. 

When  the  girl  brought  the  check  she  signed  it,  at  the  same 
time  informing  them  that  if  they  had  any  difficulty  in  raising 
the  necessary  amount  that  they  should  come  back  to  see  her, 


DEAD,    BUT    NOT    FORGOTTEN.  39 

and  that  she  would  also  probably  be  able  to  do  something  for 
the  little  boy. 

Scully  and  Mort  took  their  departure,  highly  pleased  with 
their  visit. 

On  reaching  the  street  Mort  turned  around  to  Scully  and 
said:  "Mike,  what  do  you  think  of  a  woman  like  that  being 
tied  to  a  profligate  like  Great?" 

"There  is  a  saying,  Mort,  that  'matches  are  made  in 
Heaven.'  I  think  it's  a  libel  to  say  Heaven  had  anything  to 
do  with  that  one.  I  had  better  go  over  and  see  the  priest," 
said  Scully,  "and  I'll  meet  you  in  about  an  hour  at  Hooligan's, 
or  perhaps  you  had  better  come  with  me." 

"Not  me!"  said  Mort,  laughing.  "I'll  meet  you  at  Hooli- 
gan's." 

On  Scully  arriving  at  the  parochial  residence,  he  felt  a  tre- 
mor in  his  limbs.  He  thought  he  was  up  against  it.  He  had 
been  in  many  tight  places,  he  had  stood  off  a  half  dozen  po- 
licemen with  his  gun,  nor  did  he,  at  the  holding  up  of  the 
Kansao  City  Limited,  where  shots  buzzed  around  him  fast  and 
furious,  feci  such  an  unpleasant  feeling  as  he  did  when  he 
placed  his  finger  on  the  electric  button  at  the  side  of  the  door 
leading  to  the  priest's  house. 

He  could  not  account  for  it ;  probably  the  excitement  of 
the  past  few  days  had  unnerved  him. 

On  being  admitted  by  one  of  the  Brothers,  Scully  inquired 
if  Father  Nolan  was  in.  On  being  told  he  was,  he  said  he 
would  like  to  see  him.  He  was  ushered  into  a  little  side  room 
and  told  to  be  seated. 

In  a  few  moments  his  reverence  came  in,  and,  walking  right 
over  to  where  Scully  had  been  seated  (but  who  had  risen  when 
he  saw  his  reverence  enter),  extended  his  hand,  saying:  "You 
are  Mr.  Scully,  I  presume?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Be  seated,"  drawing  a  chair  close  up  to  Scully. 

"Mr.  Scully,  I  have  heard  a  good  deal  of  you  in  the  past 
few  days,  and  I  must  say  that  some  things  I  have  heard  are 
highly  commendable,  and  while  we  are  not  as  well  acquainted 
as  we  should  be,  or  as  I  hope  we  will  be  in  the  future,  I  am 


40  DEAD,    BUT    NOT    FORGOTTEN. 

very  much  pleased  to  meet  you  and  make  your  acquaintance." 

Mike  felt  a  great  relief  in  the  tone  of  the  clergyman's  re- 
marks, but  remained  silent.  He  had  not  as  yet  learned  what 
he  was  wanted  for. 

"On  inquiring,"  his  reverence  continued,  "I  have  learned  a 
little  of  your  early  history."  (Mike  began  to  feel  uneasy 
again.)  "Your  parents,  I  learn,  were  members  of  our  con- 
gregation, and  that  you,  when  a  little  fellow,  used  to  attend 
our  parochial  school." 

Scully  nodded  assent  and  began  to  show  signs  of  nervous- 
ness as  the  kindly  priest  looked  him  straight  between  the  eyes. 

Mike  began  to  think  to  himself:  "Now  I  am  in  for  the 
lecture."  In  this  he  was  mistaken.  Father  Nolan,  continu- 
ing, said :  "We  have,  however,  no  time  to  talk  over  those 
matters  now.  What  I  want  to  see  you  about  is  what  arrange- 
ments you  are  making  to  give  those  unfortunate  people  a 
Christian  burial." 

"None  up  to  date,  your  reverence,  except  that  we  have  ap- 
pointed a  Mr.  Hooligan  to  come  over  and  see  you  about  it." 

"Well,  that  is  good.  I  am  happy  to  know  that  you  and  your 
friends  had  it  in  mind.  You  know,  however,  that  the  church 
has  its  rules  to  observe  as  to  interments  of  those  who  die,  and 
who  are  not  considered  as  being  fully  within  the  fold  of 
Mother  Church  at  the  time  of  their  taking  off." 

Mike  informed  his  reverence  that  he  was  not  acquainted 
with  the  rules. 

"Murphy  and  his  wife  had  been  sadly  neglectful,"  continued 
the  priest.  "They  were,  however,  believers  in  our  doctrines, 
and  their  untimely  death  warrants  us  in  extending  to  them 
the  charity  of  Mother  Church.  Who  knows  but  at  the  last 
moment,  like  the  penitent  thief  on  the  cross,  they  might  have 
appealed  to  the  throne  of  mercy,  to  forgive  them  their  trans- 
gressions ;  may  have  said,  as  I  hope  we  will  all  be  able  to  say, 
'Lord  have  mercy  on  me  a  sinner.'  And  God  in  His  infinite 
mercy  heard  their  prayer,  as  no  supplicant  who  appeals  in  a 
proper  spirit  is  ever  left  unheard." 

Those  remarks  appealed  to  Scully's  better  nature.  He  felt 
something  rising  in  his  throat,  and,  extending  his  hand  to  the 


DEAD,    BUT    NOT    FORGOTTEN.  41 

priest,  he  bowed  his  head  upon  his  breast,  too  full  for  utter- 
ance. 

"My  instructions  to  you,  then,  are  to  notify  the  undertaker 
to  see  to  the  burial  permit  and  have  the  remains  here  at  10 
a.  m.  tomorrow,  prompt."  Saying  this  he  arose,  and,  taking 
Scully  by  the  hand,  led  him  to  the  door,  saying.  "God  bless 
you,"  as  he  bade  him  good-day. 


"Get  out,  you  old  tramp,"  and  an  old  man  was  sent  sprawl- 
ing on  the  sidewalk.  "If  you  come  back  here  again  I'll  have 
you  pinched." 

The  old  man  gathered  himself  up  and  walked  silently  away. 

Hooligan  went  back  behind  his  bar  to  attend  to  his  legiti- 
mate business. 

"Please,  Mr.  Hooligan,  my  mother  wants  fifteen  cents' 
worth  of  whisky,  and  she  says  you  didn't  give  her  good  meas- 
ure the  last  time." 

"Your  mother's  piped ;  here's  some  candy  for  you,"  as  he 
reached  the  bottle  and  the  candy  to  a  child  hardly  as  high  as 
his  counter. 

"Ah!  how  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Schultz?     A  quart,  did  you  say?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Now,  my  little  man,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"I  want  a  pint;  and  Jack  says  you  haven't  to  give  him  all 
froth." 

"Oh,  Jack's  joking;  here's  a  pretzel  for  you."  The  boy 
goes  away  chewing  the  pretzel. 

"Well,  what  is  it?  Three  beers?  Pretty  cold  outside 
today,"  remarks  Hooligan,  as  he  took  the  price  of  the  beer 
from  the  counter. 

"I  wonder  what's  keeping  Mike?"  said  Mort,  looking  to- 
wards Bert,  Phipps  and  Hart,  who  were  seated  at  the  table. 
"Oh,  here  he  is !"  as  Scully  was  seen  coming  in  at  the  door, 
followed  by  the  undertaker. 

Mike  sat  down  on  the  vacant  chair.  Bert  stood  up  to  give 
his  seat  to  Mr.  Bradley.     "Sit  down?" 

"Keep  your  seat;  I'm  tired  sitting." 

"You  sit  down,  Mr.  Bradley." 


42  DEAD,    BUT    NOT    FORGOTTEN. 

"The  first  thing  now  is  to  see  how  much  money  we've  got," 
said  Scully  as  soon  as  he  was  seated. 

"We  were  just  talking  it  over  before  you  came  in,"  said 
Mort,  "and  I  think  we  did  fairly  well  under  the  circum- 
stances." 

"Hooligan,  bring  us  a  drink;  what  will  you  have,  Mr.  Brad- 
ley?" 

"I'll  take  a  cigar." 

"Make  mine  a  cigar,  too,"  and  Phipps  paid  for  the  drinks. 

"Now,  Joe,  you  get  a  piece  of  paper  and  let  us  check  this 
up  till  we  find  how  much  we've  got.'' 

"Hooligan,  lend  us  your  pen  and  ink." 

"I  have  one  here  somewhere,  Mr.  Phipps."  Hooligan  com- 
menced to  search  for  the  pen  and  ink.  At  last  he  located  it 
under  the  counter,  handed  it  to  Rock  to  give  to  Phipps,  who, 
on  investigation,  found  that  one  part  of  its  split  point  was  gone. 

"Is  this  the  only  pen  vou've  got?" 

"That's  all." 

Phipps  threw  the  pen  into  the  stove,  the  door  of  which  was 
open  at  the  time  to  cool  it  off. 

"Here's  a  pencil,"  said  Bradley,  handing  it  to  Phipps. 

It  was  found  that  from  all  sources  they  had  gathered  one 
hundred  and  twenty-seven  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents. 

"How  will  that  do,  Mr.  Bradley?"  inquired  Scully,  who  was 
acting  as  chairman. 

"It's  a  little  skimpy,  but  under  the  circumstances  it  will  have 
to  do.  Of  course,  you  gentlemen  will  have  to  hire  your  own 
carriages." 

"That's  all  right,"  replied  Mort.  "I  suppose  you  can  fur- 
nish them?" 

"All  you  want." 

The  young  men  looked  at  one  another,  each  waiting  for  a 
suggestion. 

"We'll  want  four,  at  least,"  remarked  Bert ;  "there  will  have 
to  be  twelve  pall-bearers." 

"That's  so,"  replied  Mort ;  "suppose  we  give  you  an  order 
for  four?  If  we  fall  short  you  could  likely  get  us  another  in 
the  morning." 


DEAD,    BUT    NOT    FORGOTTEN.  43 

"Hooligan,  you'll  want  a  carriage?" 

"I  don't  know ;  I  think  I'll  have  to  ride  with  the  alderman," 
shouted  Hooligan  from  behind  the  bar,  where  he  was  attend- 
ing to  business. 

"Let  him  alone,"  said  Scully,  impatiently ;  "if  he  wants  one 
let  him  hire  it.  What's  that  trouble  I  saw  around  the  corner 
when  I  was  coming  down  the  street?" 

"He  was  just  after  throwing  old  Shaughnessy  out,"  an- 
swered Mort. 

"What  for?" 

"He  was  trying  to  beg  a  drink." 

"Well,  many's  the  good  dollar  Shaughnessy  put  over  his 
counter." 

"That's  so,"  replied  Hart. 

"What  did  you  do  about  the  church,  Mike?"  inquired  Bert. 

"I  saw  Father  Nolan  and  he  is  going  to  say  Mass  at  10 
o'clock.     Mr.  Bradley  has  the  permit  from  the  graveyard." 

"Yes,  and  I  have  had  the  remains  brought  over  to  my  place 
— one  of  my  men  is  working  on  them  now.  We  can't  do  much 
with  Murphy,  because  he  is  burnt  about  the  neck  and  face; 
but  Mrs.  Murphy  will  come  out  all  right.  There  is  nothing 
now  to  be  done,  only  for  you  gentlemen  to  arrange  for  the 
pall-bearers,  and  be  on  hand  early  at  my  place;  so  I'll  buy  a 
drink  and  leave  you."  Bradley  told  Hooligan  to  give  the  gen- 
tlemen what  they  wanted,  which  he  did,  not  forgetting  the 
regulars. 

"We  will  have  to  send  a  carriage  to  Mrs.  O'Brien,  for  her 
and  Tony." 

"I  suppose  you'll  ride  with  them,  Mike?'' 

"I  don't  care.  Mort.  whatever  is  agreeable  to  you  all.  will 
suit  me." 

"I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  on  investigation  it  was  found  that 
Mrs,  Murphy's  people  had  a  couple  of  lots  in  Calvary,"  said 
Bradley ;  "so  that  saves  considerable." 

"Her  people  were  old  settlers,  and  good  stock."  continued 
the  undertaker,  who  was  just  about  to  leave. 


44  DEAD,    BUT    NOT    FORGOTTEN. 

Hooligan,  while  serving  the  drinks,  inquired  if  any  of  them 
had  seen  the  afternoon  papers. 

Yes,  they  had. 

"A  pretty  good  ad!  How  did  you  manage  it.  Hooligan?" 
inquired  Mort,  surmising  that  Hooligan  was  in  some  way  re- 
sponsible. 

Hooligan,  in  an  of¥-hand  manner,  claimed  he  knew  most  of 
the  city  editors,  some  of  whom  were  his  personal  friends.  "So 
whatever  I  say  goes." 

"You  seem  to  stand  well  with  the  press,  Owen,"  said  Bert, 
winking  at  Mike.  The  evening  papers  had  given  a  report  of 
the  proceedings  at  the  inquest,  and  announced  the  hour  at 
which  the  remains  would  be  removed  from  the  undertaker's 
to  the  church,  and  from  thence  to  the  railway  depot  to  be  taken 
out  in  cars,  and  stated  that  the  cars  would  leave  the  Union 
Depot  at  12  -.30  p.  m. 

Hooligan  was  in  the  main  responsible  for  all  this  informa- 
tion, having  so  informed  the  reporters,  whom  he  had  met  down 
town  that  morning,  and  insisted  upon  treating  them. 

In  his  interview  he  told  them  that  more  than  likely  he  would 
have  to  take  charge  of  the  funeral  and  foot  the  bills — he  had 
already  chartered  a  car,  seeing  that  the  people  in  the  neigh- 
borhood were  poor  and  could  not  afford  to  go  all  the  way  out 
in  carriages. 

"The  Murphys  were  nothing  to  me,"  he  said  with  emphasis, 
"still,  they  were  my  neighbors,  and  whether  living  or  dead  I 
will  never  desert  them." 

"Come,  boys,  take  another  drink."  It  being  early  in  the 
day,  and  having  ample  time  to  prepare  their  copy,  they  might 
just  as  well  spend  a  half  hour  getting  original  dope  from  Hooli- 
gan as  go  elsewhere. 

"What's  to  become  of  the  boy?"  inquired  the  reporter  of 
the  Times. 

"I  don't  know;  I  suppose  I  will  have  to  take  care  of  him. 
Of  course,  you  know  I  am  a  bachelor."  (None  of  the  news- 
gatherers  was  acquainted  with  this  vital  piece  of  information, 
so  let  it  go  unchallenged.)  "If  I  was  a  married  man  and  had 
a  home  to  bring  him  to.  he  would  be  a  comfort  for  me  to  look 


DEAD,    BUT    NOT    FORGOTTEN.  45 

after,  but  as  it  is  I  don't  know  what  I  am  going  to  do  with 
him.  I  see  some  of  you  want  to  be  going.  Have  a  cigar  be- 
fore you  go.  I,  myself,  have  a  lot  of  work  to  do  in  connec- 
tion with  this  aflfair.  Don't  forget  to  say  that  we  go  to  Calvary 
by  cars,  leaving  the  Union  Depot  at  12  :30.  We  expect  that 
Alderman  Great  is  going  out  with  us."  (Of  course,  this  an- 
nouncement he  thought  important,  as  giving  tone  to  the  fu- 
neral.) 

When  the  reporters  left  Hooligan,  one  of  them  remarked, 
"I  don't  think  he's  a  bad  kind  of  fellow.  I  propose  we  give 
the  funeral  arrangements  a  little  space — it  will  make  a  pretty 
good  story,  but  cut  the  Alderman  out."  But  this  inside  in- 
formation was  not  vouchsafed  the  little  crowd  at  Hooligan's. 

As  soon  as  the  undertaker  had  gone,  Mort  suggested  that 
they  pick  out  the  pall-bearers. 

"Hooligan  will  act  as  one,"  said  Hart. 

"He'll  want  to  be  chief  mourner,"  replied  Rock,  with  a  grin. 

"There  is  old  man  Dempsey,  a  friend  of  the  family,  and 
O'Brien,  they  will  be  both  going,  that  is  two  more,"  continued 
Mort,  as  he  looked  towards  the  roost  where  a  number  of 
Hooligan's  patrons  were  perched,  but  seeing  no  presentable 
candidates,  he  made  no  further  suggestions. 

"With  us  five  and  Hooligan,  Dempsey  and  O'Brien  make 
eight.  We  can  easily  pick  out  four  in  the  morning,"  added 
Phipps. 

"I  would  have  liked,''  suggested  Bert,  "if  we  could  have  a 
floral  piece." 

"I  forgot  that,"  remarked  Mort. 

"How  much  would  one  cost?"  inquired  Phipps. 

"About  ten  dollars,"  replied  Rock. 

"But  who  has  the  ten?"  asked  Hart.  "We  have  already 
hired  four  carriages — it  will  take  us  all  our  time  to  pay  for 
them." 

"I  propose  we  make  Hooligan  put  up  the  ten ;  what  do  you 
say,  Mike?" 

"Well,  you  can  ask  him." 

"I'll  tackle  him,"  continued  Mort.  "Here,  Hooligan,  we 
want  to  see  you." 


46  DEAD,    BUT    NOT    FORGOTTEN. 

"In  a  moment."  He  was  busy  at  the  time,  putting  fifteen 
cents  worth  of  whiskey  in  a  bottle  for  a  ragged  little  girl  not 
over  nine  years  of  age.  As  Hooligan  took  the  money  from 
her  hand,  he  gave  her  a  piece  of  candy,  so  as  to  retain  her 
patronage. 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  Hooligan,  coming  towards  them. 

■'We  have  decided  to  have  a  floral  piece.  It  will  cost  ten 
dollars,  and  we  want  you  to  put  up  the  money.  We  will  pay 
for  it  amongst  us,  but  we  are  all  about  broke." 

"Now,  Mort,  I  have  been  out  a  lot  of  money  already,  and  I 
don't  think  you  should  ask  me  to  share  in  this  expense." 

Scully,  whose  temper  was  somewhat  rufiled  and  who  had  no 
patience  with  Hooligan  at  any  time,  said,  "Never  mind,  you 
advance  the  ten  and  we  will  stand  it  ourselves." 

"When  am  I  going  to  get  it  back?"  whined  Hooligan. 

"Never,  perhaps,"  was  Scully's  angry  reply. 

Hooligan,  who  always  wilted  in  Scully's  presence,  pulled  out 
a  large  roll  of  bills,  and  picking  out  a  ten-dollar  one  laid  it 
on  the  table,  went  back  behind  the  bar  mumbling  something 
to  himself. 

"Phipps,  you  go  telephone  to  the  undertaker.  Tell  him  we 
have  ten  dollars  for  a  floral  piece." 

"Hold  a  moment,  Mike ;  he  will  want  to  know  what  to 
put  on  it." 

"That's  so ;  whaf  do  you  suggest  ?" 

"Hooligan's  victims,"  remarked  Hart,  in  an  undertone; 
Squinty  Rock,  laughing  outright,  thought  that  would  be  very 
appropriate. 

Scully,  who  had  been  somewhat  morose  all  night,  smiled, 
as  did  the  rest  of  the  group. 

Hooligan,  who  was  out  of  hearing,  attending  to  his  cus- 
tomers, looked  hard  at  them.  He  suspected  they  were  laugh- 
ing at  him. 

"What  do  you  say,  Mort?"  inquired  Scully. 

"I  think  out  of  respect  for  the  youngster  we  should  have 
something  in  the  shape  of  a  pillow  with  the  words.  'MY  PAR- 
ENTS/ on  it." 


THE  FUNERAL.  47 

"A  good  idea,"  remarked  Bert.  So  it  was  agreed,  and 
Phipps  was  dispatched  to  give  the  order.  On  hij  return  he 
said  it  was  all  right,  Mr.  Bradley  would  have  it  on  the  coffins 
by  9  in  the  morning. 

"Now,"  said  Mort,  "we  will  have  one  more  drink  and  go. 
I'm  tired."  Scully  would  take  a  cigar.  "Take  a  little  whis- 
key, it  will  brace  you  up;  seems  to  me  as  if  you  had  a  dose 
of  the  jimjams." 

"No,  Henry;  I  have  cut  it  out." 


Chapter  VII. 


THE  FUNERAL. 


The  morning  of  the  funeral,  the  boys  assembled  early  at 
their  usual  rendezvous.  Scully  and  Mort  went  over  to  Mrs. 
O'Brien's  to  notify  her  of  the  final  arrangements ;  a  carriage 
would  call  for  her  before  9  o'clock  to  take  her  and  Tony  to 
the  undertaker's ;  Scully  would  ride  in  the  same  carriage,  and 
Mr.  O'Brien  would  be  expected  to  be  a  pall  bearer.  Mrs. 
O'Brien  said  that  would  be  satisfactory. 

The  weather  was  fine ;  the  sun  shone  bright  though  the 
air  was  a  little  sharp ;  being  the  middle  of  December  this  was 
to  be  expected. 

The  melancholy  taking  off  of  the  two  victims  of  the  fire  had 
awakened  a  lively  interest  amongst  the  public,  many  coming 
from  a  distance  to  get  a  look  at  the  funeral  cortege ;  to  see  the 
orphan  boy,  and  the  hero  who  had  rescued  him  at  the  peril  of 
his  own  life. 

It  was  rumored  that  Father  Nolan  was  going  to  preach  a 
funeral  sermon  over  the  remains.  This  alone  was  sufficient 
to  bring  a  great  number  to  the  church,  the  priest,  besides  his 
great  popularity,  having  the  reputation  of  being  a  splendid 
orator. 

Long  before  the  time  set  for  the  funeral  cortege  to  leave. 


48  THE  FUNERAL. 

carriages  began  to  drive  up,  in  one  of  which  was  the  good 
alderman  and  three  of  his  sturdy  vassals. 

Mrs.  Great  occupied  another.  (She  and  the  alderman  never 
rode  together.)     She  had  her  maid,  Mary,  with  her. 

Many  other  carriages  were  there,  some  occupied  by  neigh- 
bors and  friends  of  the  Murphys,  some  who  had  known 
Murphy  in  better  days,  when  he  was  an  industrious,  steady 
man.  Nor  was  Mrs.  Murphy  forgotten — women  who  had 
grown  up  with  her  from  girlhood  were  there  to  pay  their  last 
sad  respects. 

Some  of  the  acquaintances  and  associates  of  Scully  were 
there  in  carriages,  even  from  the  south  side  of  the  city.  Their 
occupants  did  not  know  the  Murphys,  but  they  knew  the  boys 
who  had  taken  an  interest  in  them,  and  that  was  the  same 
thing — it  was  a  day's  outing. 

There  were  two  carriages  filled  to  overflowing  with  newsboys, 
who  attracted  a  great  deal  of  attention.  They  were  a  delega- 
tion selected  in  due  form  from  Newsboys'  alley.  Hustler  Joe 
was  chairman.  As  soon  as  they  arrived  Joe,  impressed  with 
the  importance  of  his  office,  marched  them  in  line  on  the  side- 
walk. They  had  brought  a  floral  piece  with  them,  which  was 
handed  down  by  the  driver  of  one  of  the  carriages,  it  having 
occupied  the  seat  with  him.  Joe  saw  to  it  that  in  the  handing 
down  no  harm  would  befall  it.  Rocco,  the  Dago,  and  Skinny 
took  charge  of  it,  holding  it  in  such  position  as  to  show  the 
lettering  on  it,  which  read,  "WE  MOURN  WITH  TONY." 

Joe  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  boys  and  marched 
them  in,  leaving  the  floral  piece  on  the  casket  containing  the 
remains  of  Murphy,  the  one  sent  by  Scully  and  his  friends  rest- 
ing on  the  casket  containing  the  body  of  Mrs.  Murphy.  The 
newsboys  marched  around  the  coffins,  glanced  at  the  face  of 
Mrs.  Murphy,  and  filed  out  again,  receiving  instructions  from 
Joe  as  to  their  future  conduct. 

The  men  who  came  in  the  different  carriages  formed  in 
groups  on  the  sidewalk,  the  good  alderman  being  a  central 
figure.  Others  sought  the  nearby  saloon,  where  they  took  a 
bracer  before  they  started.     Many  of  the  women  also  got  out 


THE   FUNERAL.  49 

of  their  carriages,  and  crowded  the  undertaker's  establishment 
to  get  a  view  of  the  dead. 

Mrs.  Great  did  not  leave  her  carriage.  Some  of  the  ladies 
of  the  parish,  hearing  she  was  present,  sought  her  out  and  con- 
versed with  her  through  the  window.  She  invited  a  couple 
to  ride  with  her,  but  those  she  invited  had  carriages  of  their 
own,  so  made  arrangements  by  surrendering  their  own  seats 
to  some  less  fortunate,  but  who  desired  to  go,  and  then  accept- 
ed Mrs.  Great's  invitation  to  accompany  her. 

The  carriage  containing  Mrs.  O'Eijien,  Scully  and  Tony 
drove  up,  and  after  some  trouble  on  the  part  of  the  driver  to 
get  through  the  crowd,  stopped  in  front  of  the  undertaker's. 
This  occasioned  quite  a  commotion.  Some  of  the  newsboys 
wanted  to  rush  forward  and  greet  Tony,  but  Joe  checked  them, 
"Keep  back,  there,  you  Rocky.  Skinny,  Pickels ;  you  keep  in 
line,"  was  his  command,  and  there  was  nothing  for  them  to  do 
but  to  obey.     They  knew  Joe  wasn't  to  be  fooled  with. 

The  two  coffins  lay  side  by  side,  with  a  sufficient  space  be- 
tween them  for  passage.  The  one  containing  the  body  of 
Murphy  was  entirely  closed,  on  account  of  his  face  being 
much  disfigured ;  the  one  containing  the  remains  of  Mrs. 
Murphy  had  a  glass  slide,  through  which  the  face  and  part  of 
her  bust  could  be  seen,  her  hands  clasped  across  her  breast 
holding  a  set  of  rosary  beads  with  a  fine  gilt  cross.  It  was 
whispered  around  that  those  had  been  sent  by  Mrs.  Great. 

The  face  of  the  dead  woman  had  been  completely  bleached 
out.  She  looked  like  marble,  her  head  resting  upon  a  pillow, 
her  beautiful  brown  hair  tastily  arranged.  She  had  been  a 
handsome  woman  in  her  day,  and  the  undertaker's  art  had  in 
part  removed  the  careworn  look  she  had  had  later  in  life. 

Those  who  gazed  on  the  placid,  tranquil  countenance  could 
not  discern  a  trace  of  the  cause  of  the  calamity  which  had 
launched  her  into  eternity.  If  she  had  died  at  the  altar,  with 
her  upturned  face  looking  towards  the  throne  of  mercy,  fully 
prepared  and  desirous  to  meet  her  God,  she  could  not  have 
looked  more  composed. 

At  sight  of  his  mother  Tony  gave  a  cry  of  anguish,  "Mother ! 
Mother !  Mother !"  he  cried ;  "Oh,  my  poor  Mother  !    Will  she 


50  THE  FUNERAL, 

never  come  back  to  me?"  Mrs.  O'Brien  moved  back  the  glass 
so  that  he  could  kiss  her  farewell.  He  threw  his  arms  around 
her  neck  and  laid  his  little  face  against  her's,  as  the  tears  rolled 
from  his  eyes  over  her  cheeks  and  forehead ;  he  buried  his 
hands  in  her  hair  as  he  entreated  her  to  come  back  to  him,  to 
her  little  Tony.  Women  sobbed  bitterly;  even  the  newsboys' 
delegation,  which  had  followed  him  in,  broke  up  in  disorder, 
Joe  himself  crying  like  a  lusty  fellow,  in  unison  with  his  mates. 
Men  blew  their  noses,  and  wiped  away  a  furtive  tear.  Scully, 
who  had  led  him,  beat  a  retreat,  leaving  Mrs.  O'Brien 
to  take  care  of  him.  Even  Jim  Bradley,  who  had  seen  many 
heart-rending  scenes  at  funerals  he  had  supervised,  admitted 
he  felt  somewhat  awkward.  Tony  clung  to  his  mother  until 
the  undertaker  had  to  loose  his  hands.  The  boy  looked  piti- 
fully into  his  face,  as  though  to  say,  "Are  you  going  to  take 
her  from  me?" 

Henry  Mort  came  forward,  and  taking  him  by  the  hand,  led 
him  out,  the  newsboys  crowding  after  him.  Henry  gave  him 
back  to  Scully,  and  returned  to  where  the  dead  lay,  acting  as 
master  of  ceremonies.  He  held  a  brief  discourse  with  the 
undertaker,  who  screwed  down  the  lids  of  the  coffins. 

"Have  you  got  all  your  pall-bearers,  Mr.  Mort?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  please  have  them  step  this  way."  He  commenced  to 
pin  crape  on  their  arms,  and  handed  each  one  a  pair  of  white 
gloves,  which  they  proceeded  to  put  on. 

Hooligan,  who  had  been  giving  his  attention  to  the  good 
alderman,  arrived  just  in  time. 

Hooligan  and  Dempsey,  Joe  Phipps  and  O'Brien,  and  two 
strangers  laid  hold  of  the  handles  on  Murphy's  cofifin  prepara- 
tory to  taking  it  out.  The  hearse  had  already  been  backed  up 
to  the  curb  to  receive  it.  The  crowd  on  the  sidewalk  jammed 
the  passage,  women  and  children  pushed  forward  to  see  the 
coffins  come  out,  men  in  the  rear  craned  their  necks  to  look 
over  the  heads  to  obtain  a  better  view. 

Jim  Bradley,  who  came  out  in  front  of  the  first  coffin,  ap- 
pealed to  the  crowd  to  make  room,  but  in  vain.  The  pressure 
from  behind  was  too  great.     Some  of  the  men  came  to  his  aid. 


THE  FUNERAL.  51 

and  partly  by  appeal,  partly  by  force,  made  room.  A  solitary 
policeman  came  strolling  along.  The  alderman,  noticing  him, 
shouted : 

"Officer,  why  don't  you  keep  that  crowd  back?" 

The  officer,  turning  around  and  recognizing  who  it  was  that 
had  spoken  to  him,  immediately  came  to  life.  It  looked  as  if 
hundreds  of  volts  of  electricity  had  been  shot  into  him.  He 
broke  through  the  crowd,  club  in  hand. 

"Stand  back!"  he  said,  in  a  threatening  manner,  and  the 
minion  of  the  law,  the  enforcer  of  our  constitution,  and  the 
chief  dignitary  of  our  civilization,  soon  secured  ample  room. 
Murphy's  coffin  was  thrust  into  the  hearse,  the  door  slammed 
behind  it,  the  driver  jerked  the  reins  in  his  hands,  and  the 
hearse  moved  on,  the  other  hearse  taking  its  place. 

Henry  Moit,  John  Bert,  Red  Hart,  Squinty  Rock,  and  two 
others  who  had  been  pressed  into  service  were  seen  bearing 
out  the  coffin  in  which  were  Mrs.  Murphy's  remains,  and  it 
was  placed  in  the  hearse. 

While  this  was  being  done  the  newsboys'  delegation  had 
flocked  around  Tony.  Joe,  as  official  mouthpiece,  had  told 
Tony  how  sorry  they  were  for  him.  "Every  kid  in  the  street 
is  with  you,  Tony,"  he  said,  "and  we  are  going  to  stand  by 
you ;  aren't  we,  fellows  ?"  and  the  crowd  of  youngsters  gave 
endorsement  to  the  hustler's  declaration  in  such  terms  as  "You 
bet,  we  will,"  "Sure,  Mike,"  and  "I  should  say  so."  Those 
expressions  of  loyalty  and  devotion  gave  Tony  a  little  com- 
fort, though  his  heart  was  too  sad  to  make  proper  acknowl- 
edgment. 

"How  many  of  you  are  there?"  asked  Scully,  impressed  by 
their  manly  declaration  in  favor  of  his  charge. 

"Thirteen,"  replied  Joe,  with  pride,  looking  over  his  bunch 
of  street  Arabs. 

"How  many  carriages  have  you?" 

"Two,  sir." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  be  a  little  crowded." 

"Oh,  we're  all  right." 

"Well,  as  there  are  only  three  in  our  carriage,  I  would  sug- 
gest that  one  of  you  ride  with  us." 


52  THE  FUNERAL. 

The  whole  bunch  looked  at  one  another  in  expectancy,  and 
then  at  Joe.    There  was  a  pause  for  a  minute. 

"You  go,"  spoke  up  Skinny,  "you're  the  chairman  of  de  dele- 
gation, and  we  11  see  you  at  the  church." 

It  was  agreed  that  Joe,  the  hustler,  should  ride  with  Tony, 
Scully  and  Mrs.  O'Brien. 

The  carriages  drove  up  and  were  filled  in  rapid  succession, 
and  the  journey  to  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Family  com- 
menced. 

A  great  number  ran  ahead  towards  the  church,  which  was 
but  a  short  distance,  so  that  when  the  funeral  procession 
reached  the  sacred  edifice  it  was  seen  that  the  affair  had  as- 
sumed the  proportions  of  a  demonstration.  The  ushers  had 
difficulty  in  reserving  a  few  of  the  front  seats  for  the  mourners. 

As  soon  as  the  first  hearse  had  arrived  the  great  bell  began 
to  peal  forth  its  announcement  of  the  funeral  rite,  its  dismal, 
measured  tone  adding  to  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion. 

The  coffins  were  placed  in  front  of  the  sanctuary,  the  car- 
riages arriving  in  turn,  many  of  their  occupants  entering  the 
sacred  building  and  kneeling  down,  crossed  themselves  de- 
voutly, and  began  to  pray,  few  women  who  could  gain  admis- 
sion staying  out. 

Most  of  the  men  crossed  over  to  a  saloon  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  then  kept  by  a  patriot  of  the  Hooligan  stamp. 
Hooligan  himself,  after  the  corpse  that  he  bore  in  part  was 
laid  on  the  trestle,  fell  back,  and  leaving  the  church,  joined  the 
group  in  the  saloon,  in  which  the  alderman  was  a  central  figure. 

A  solemn  High  Mass  was  being  said  for  the  repose  of  the 
souls  of  the  departed.  (Mrs.  Great  had  given  Father  Nolan 
the  instructions.)  After  it  was  over  and  the  officiating  clergy- 
man and  the  acolytes  had  retired,  a  boy  was  seen  entering  the 
chancel.  He  bore  aloft  a  large  gilt  cross,  and  was  closely  fol- 
lowed by  the  priest,  a  boy  on  each  side  of  him,  one  carrying  a 
censer  in  his  hands,  that  he  was  swaying  to  and  fro,  the  other  a 
vessel  in  which  was  holy  water  and  a  brush. 

The  last  funeral  rites  of  the  Holy  Roman  Catholic  Church 
had  commenced.    The  priest  chanted  forth  the  solemn  words. 

After  a  time  he  came  down  the  steps  leading  from  the  sane- 


THE  FUNERAL.  53 

tuary,  and  made  a  circuit  of  the  coffins,  waving  the  censer 
towards  them,  chanting  the  appropriate  ritual  for  the  dead.  He 
afterwards  sprinkled  them  with  holy  water.  After  the  con- 
clusion of  this  part  of  the  services  he  commenced  his  ser- 
mon.   There  was  rapt  attention. 

"In  the  name  of  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.    Amen." 

"In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death,  so  saith  the  prophet. 
What  better  illustration  of  the  profound  wisdom  and  truth 
of  this  saying  could  be  given,  what  greater  object  lesson,  than 
the  one  now  before  us? 

"My  brethren,  on  a  fateful  night  the  dear  departed,  whose 
remains  we  now  see  before  us,  went  to  their  homes  full  of 
life,  no  danger  in  sight,  no  warning  of  their  impending  doom. 
They  retire  to  sleep,  no  thought  of  the  morrow  that  never 
came  to  them, 

"In  a  brief  moment  death,  the  certain,  the  irrevocable,  enters, 
without  a  single  word  of  warning,  and  claims  them  as  his  own, 
launches  them  into  eternity.  Ah,  my  friends,  it  was  sad.  Let 
us  hope,  however,  that  there  was  a  brief  respite,  if  but  for  a 
moment,  in  which  time  was  given  to  those  poor  people  between 
the  call  and  the  execution,  to  appeal  to  the  throne  of  the  Al- 
mighty and  cry  out  in  their  anguish,  'Lord,  have  mercy  on  me, 
,a  sinner!' 

"Ah,  my  friends;  that  is  a  happy  thought.  God  will  that  it 
was  so.  There  is,  however,  in  this  untimely  taking  ofiF  a  lesson 
and  a  warning  to  all  of  us  who  survive  them,  for  none  there 
are  who  know  how  soon  or  how  sudden  the  grim  reaper  may 
call  for  any  now  present.  Let  us,  then,  profit  by  this  catas- 
trophe, and  be  ever  ready  to  stand  before  the  judgment  seat — 
it  is  but  a  simple  matter,  Mother  Church  shows  the  way;  it 
is  strewn  with  flowers  to  those  whose  conscience,  beliefs,  and 
practices  follow  her  holy  mandates. 

"In  every  pursuit  of  life,  in  peace  as  well  as  in  war,  the  good 
Christian  man,  and  the  good  Christian  woman,  is  fortified  with 
armor  stronger  than  human  ingenuity  can  devise.  No  matter 
how  humble  their  station,  or  how  exalted  their  position  in  this 
world,  trials  will  beset  them  in  this  valley  of  tears,  the  time 


54  THE   FUNERAL. 

of  their  dissolution  will  come,  and  they  must  go  to  render  an 
account  of  their  stewardship. 

"The  Catholic  Christian  who  tries  to  follow  in  the  footsteps 
of  our  Redeemer,  and  conforms  to  the  rules  and  obligations 
laid  down  for  our  guidance  by  His  Holy  Church,  is  ever  im- 
bued with  Faith  and  Hope  in  the  great  beyond,  and  'tis  they 
alone  can  face  the  final  dissolution  with  a  stout  heart,  for  they 
know  the  hour  of  their  redemption  is  at  hand,  that  the  promise 
of  the  Redeemer  is  all-sufficient ;  the  human  tabernacle  that 
contains  the  soul  may  be  racked  with  pain,  but  in  their  agony 
they  are  buoyed  up  with  the  consolation  sublime,  in  full  knowl- 
edge that  they  have  tried  to  carry  out  God's  holy  will,  that 
they  have  led  good  lives,  just  to  their  fellow  men,  obedient  to 
the  rules  and  precepts  of  Christ's  Church  on  earth,  and  for 
them  death  is  but  the  way  to  the  resurrection. 

"Ah,  my  friends,  I  rejoice  to  see  so  many  of  you  here  this 
morning  to  pay  your  last  sad  respects  to  the  remains  of  this 
poor  couple.  To  bury  the  dead  is  one  of  the  cardinal  works  of 
mercy,  one  of  the  duties  and  obligations  imposed  upon  all  who 
have  the  Faith,  but  the  widow  and  the  orphan  also  demand 
our  care. 

"You  all,  no  doubt,  are  aware  of  the  circumstances  connect- 
ed with  this  sad  event,  that  there  is  an  orphan  left  homeless, 
but  not  destitute,  as  willing  hands  have  been  outstretched  to 
help  him,  sympathizing  friends  have  tried  to  pour  some  con- 
solation into  his  little  wounded  heart ;  fatherless  and  mother- 
less, he  stands  alone  in  this  wicked  world,  in  this  more  than 
wicked  city.  I  bespeak  for  him,  the  living,  your  prayers,  as 
well  as  the  prayers  of  you,  the  faithful,  for  his  parents  who, 
dead,  can  never  more  shield  him  or  provide  for  his  necessities. 

"I  appeal  to  you,  friends  and  neighbors,  in  behalf  of  this 
orphan  boy,  keep  a  watch  over  him,  and  try  as  far  as  may  lay 
in  your  power  to  keep  his  footsteps  in  the  path  of  righteous- 
ness, and  minister  to  his  little  wants  as  you  can  best  aflford. 
'He  that  giveth  to  the  poor  but  lendeth  to  the  Lord.'  Christ 
made  a  special  appeal  on  behalf  of  the  widow  and  orphan,  and 
I,  one  of  the  humblest  of  His  servants,  appeal  to  you  in  behalf 
of  this  orphan. 


THE  FtTNERAL.  35 

"In  the  name  of  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.   Amen." 

The  priest  having  retired,  the  undertaker  signaled  to  the  pall- 
bearers, who  took  their  respective  places  beside  the  coffins. 

Hooligan,  who  had  spent  the  time  during  the  service  fawn- 
ing over  the  alderman,  in  the  saloon  across  the  way,  came 
crowding  his  way  up  the  aisle  and  took  his  place  at  the  end  of 
the  casket  containing  the  remains  of  his  defunct  customer. 

The  bodies  were  placed  in  the  hearses,  the  carriages  received 
their  occupants,  and  the  cortege  proceeded  to  the  Union  Depot. 
On  its  arrival  there  it  was  found  that  the  funeral  car  which 
had  been  arranged  for  would  not  hold  a  third  of  the  crowd 
who  desired  to  go  to  the  cemetery. 

The  railway  officials  protested  against  them  occupying  any 
of  the  cars  reserved  for  the  other  people. 

Hooligan,  who  assumed  the  position  of  the  manager  in  gen- 
eral when  they  got  to  the  depot,  tried  to  impress  the  railway 
conductor  with  his  great  importance.  The  railway  official 
pushed  him  aside.  "Who  do  you  think  you  are?"  he  remarked 
to  Hooligan.  Hooligan  clamored  loudly  for  the  alderman, 
"He  would  damned  soon  let  the  conductor  know  who  he  was." 

Inquiry  was  made,  and  it  was  learned  that  the  good  alder- 
man had  staid  in  the  saloon.  This  being  the  case.  Hooligan 
slunk  back  in  despair. 

Scully,  who  up  to  this  time  had  been  a  silent  observer  of 
the  scene,  came  forward  and  appealed  to  the  conductor  to  allow 
the  people  to  pass,  and  it  would  be  adjusted  afterwards. 

The  conductor  told  him  to  mind  his  own  business ;  that  he 
could  mind  his.     This  curt  reply  angered  many  present. 

The  little  gate  which  allowed  the  passengers  to  go  through 
to  the  platform  was  open.  A  man  stood  sentry  over  it,  await- 
ing instructions  from  his  superior.  There  were  more  outside 
the  gate  than  had  got  through. 

"Hey,  you !"  shouted  the  conductor,  "you  get  off  that  rail !" 
This  remark  was  hurled  at  Joe,  the  hustler,  whose  delegation 
had  wheeled  a  truck  close  to  the  high  fence  and  were  vault- 
ing over  it  when  the  conductor  noticed  them.  Skinny  stuck 
out  his  tongue  at  him;  Rocco,  the  Dago,  put  his  thumb  to  his 


56  THE  FUNERAL. 

nose  and  shook  his  fingers  at  him.  The  outworks  had  been 
scaled. 

■'Come  on,  boys!"  shouted" Joe. 

■'Stop  that  fellow !"  roared  the  conductor  to  a  diminutive 
porter,  who  tried  to  prevent  Joe's  passage. 

"I'll  give  you  one  under  the  jaw  if  you  try  to. stop  me," 
shouted  Joe  to  him.  Skinny  knocked  the  porter's  cap  off 
while  passing.  The  whole  delegation  of  thirteen  menaced  the 
porter,  who  beat  a  hasty  retreat. 

The  solitary  policeman,  who  was  on  hand  prepared  to  do 
his  duty,  was  an  Irishman  of  robust  proportions,  with  a  heart 
in  full  keeping  with  his  size.  He  knew  whose  funeral  it  was, 
and  his  sympathies  were  with  the  crowd;  but  as  his  sworn 
duty  was  to  see  that  the  peace  and  order  of  the  community 
were  preserved,  he  thought  the  best  way  to  do  it  was  to  look 
wise.  He  surmised  what  was  coming,  so  conveniently  turned 
his  back. 

Mort  and  Hart  were  still  amongst  those  outside  the  barriers, 
as  was  Hooligan,  who,  after  being  snubbed,  remained  in  the 
rear. 

Hart  had  to  be  kept  in  check  by  Mort,  who  vowed  he  would 
reach  the  conductor  one,  if  he  had  to  go  over  the  road  for  it. 

Henry  Mort,  addressing  the  crowd,  said,  "I  am  going  with 
this  train,  and  any  of  you  that  want  to  go  follow  me."  With 
this  he  got  hold  of  the  conductor  and  pushed  him  ahead  of  him. 

Hart  grabbed  the  man  who  was  in  charge  of  the  gate,  and 
pushed  him  through,  telling  him  at  the  same  time  he  would 
knock  his  block  off  if  he  gave  any  lip.  The  whole  crowd  surged 
in  after  Mort  and  Hart,  and  piled  into  the  train,  until  it  was 
as  full  as  one  of  Yerkes'  street  cars  during  the  busy  hours. 

The  depot  superintendent  arriving,  the  conductor  appealed 
to  him. 

"Go  ahead,"  said  the  superintendent. 

The  conductor  gave  the  signal,  the  fireman  pulled  the  bell- 
rope,  the  engineer  pulled  the  lever  that  gives  life  to  the  engine, 
and  they  were  off. 

A  little  way  out  from  Chicago  it  was  decided  to  take  up  a 
subscription.     Hooligan,  Phipps,  Bert,  Hart  and  Mort  passed 


THE  FUNERAL.  57 

around  their  hats,  explaining  as  they  went  along  that  what- 
ever was  given  was  to  go  to  the  boy.  Many  gave  willingly; 
others  who  had  come  were  not  prepared  to  give  anything  ex- 
cept their  sympathy.  When  the  money  was  counted  it  was 
found  to  amount  to  seventy-nine  dollars  and  forty-five  cents. 


Calvary,  city  of  the  dead !  What  memories  does  it  reflect 
on  the  minds  of  thousands  of  our  people !  Within  its  iron  rail- 
ings lie  the  remains  of  many  of  Chicago's  pioneers ;  men  who 
were  leaders  in  their  day,  and  gave  to  Chicago  and  its  people 
their  best  efforts  from  the  time  this  great  city  was  but  a 
straggling  village  situated  between  the  forks  of  its  river. 

Scene  of  many  a  bitter  parting,  where  the  living  have 
stood  in  grief  and  sorrow  watching  those  who  were  nearest 
and  dearest  to  them  lowered  into  their  silent  graves ;  the  rest- 
ing place  of  soldiers  and  civilians,  priests  and  laymen,  poets 
and  painters,  men  of  letters,  and  men  of  business  whose  acu- 
men and  enterprise  raised  them  to  the  foremost  rank  in  the 
commercial  world !  Fathers,  mothers,  sisters,  and  brothers ; 
all  lay  there.  The  husband  has  seen  tjie  casket  containing  the 
remains  of  the  woman  he  loved,  perhaps  his  children  gathered 
around  him,  sobbing  in  sorrow,  and  the  wife  has  seen  the  hus- 
band of  her  youth,  the  man  who  had  shared  her  joys  and  sor- 
rows, lowered  into  the  earth  from  which  they  sprang — "Earth 
to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes."  Brothers  their  sisters,  sisters  their 
brothers,  parents  their  children,  children  their  parents — all 
gather  here.  The  more  fortunate,  the  exalted,  may  have  had 
monuments  raised  to  commemorate  their  achievements,  but  they 
know  it  not. 

Others  may  have  left  records  that  have  tarnished  the  fair 
names  of  those,  the  very  creators  of  their  being.  But  Mother 
Earth  treats  all  alike,  her  mantle  covers  their  virtues  and  their 
vices,  and  there  they  remain,  till  the  last  trumpet  sounds,  and 
the  final  day  of  reckoning  has  come. 

The  newly  dug  graves,  in  which  the  mortal  remains  of  the 
Murphys  were  to  be  laid,  were  ready  to  receive  their  tenants. 

The  undertaker  stood  in  the  center  of  the  group,  the  grave- 
diggers  had  adjusted  the  straps  to  low^er  the  coffins  into  the 


58  THE  FUNERAL. 

graves,  the  sound  of  sobbing  and  crying  was  heard  in  many 
quarters;  the  chief  mourner,  Httle  Tony,  could  not  be  con- 
soled. His  little  heart  was  broken.  Men  whose  natures  were 
stern  felt  uncomfortable  listening  to  him ;  tears  flowed  freely 
down  the  cheeks  of  women,  whose  tender  natures  could  not 
stand  the  strain. 

Scully,  who  still  clung  to  Tony's  hand,  was  afraid  to  raise 
his  head.  He  had  the  heart  of  a  lion ;  he  never  knew  what  fear 
was ;  but  he,  too,  had  had  a  mother,  and  the  scene  he  was  now 
witnessing  was  the  reminder  of  a  similar  occasion.  She,  how- 
ever, had  died  peacefully  in  her  bed,  surrounded  by  minister- 
ing friends,  fortified  with  the  last  rites  of  her  church.  In  this 
the  circumstances  differed.  He  remembered  her  parting  ad- 
vice to  him  to  be  a  good  boy,  a  good  man.  He  had  not  fol- 
lowed her  instructions.  This  scene  awakened  thoughts  in  his 
mind  long  time  dormant ;  his  conscience  smote  him ;  he  felt  un- 
comfortable ;  he  would  like  to  be  away  in  some  secluded  place 
where  he,  too,  like  the  youngster  whose  hand  he  held,  could 
have  a  good  cry  unobserved.  He  let  go  of  Tony's  hand,  mo- 
tioning to  Mort  to  take  care  of  him.  He  left  the  group,  walk- 
ing hurriedly  away.  Many  eyes  followed  him,  accounting  for 
his  leaving  by  the  sorrow  which  affected  him.  He  walked 
down  one  of  the  paths,  graves  on  each  side  of  him.  After 
going  a  short  distance  he  turned  to  the  right  and  scanned  the 
graves  on  both  sides.  He  paus'ed  as  if  in  doubt,  then  he  went 
on  again.  At  last  he  found  the  object  of  his  search.  It  was 
a  small  headstone,  nearly  obscured  with  dead  weeds.  He  went 
over  and  moved  them  aside  with  his  hand,  then  read  the  in- 
scription : 

Anastasia  Scully,  Beloved  Wife  of  Michael  Scully. 
Died  June  7th.  1872. 

After  a  time  he  turned  around ;  through  the  bare  trees  he 
could  see  the  crowd  that  had  come  to  the  Murphy  funeral 
going  towards  the  gate.  He  knelt  down  and  remained  some 
time  in  prayer.  He  rose,  wiped  his  eyes,  and  retraced  his 
steps. 


THE    ALDERMAN.  59 

Mort,  Bert,  Phipps  and  Rock  all  wished  it  over.  The  tense 
excitement  of  the  past  few  days  was  telling  upon  their  hard- 
ened natures.  They,  too,  had  mothers,  and  Tony's  wailing 
disconcerted  them. 

At  length  the  coffins  were  lowered  into  the  graves,  the  pall- 
bearers threw  on  top  of  the  coffins  the  pieces  of  crape  from 
their  arms  and  the  gloves  from  their  hands.  The  grave-diggers 
commenced  to  shovel  in  the  dirt.  When  the  graves  would  hold 
no  more  they  formed  a  mound,  and  their  work  was  done. 

James  Bradley,  the  undertaker,  knelt  down.  Mrs.  Great  and 
nearly  all  the  women  and  many  of  the  men  followed  his  ex- 
ample. Others  who  had  long  since  forgotten  how  to  pray 
knelt  down  for  appearance's  sake,  while  the  prayers  were  being 
offered  for  the  souls  of  the  departed,  after  which  the  crowd 
dispersed,  many  to  visit  the  graves  in  which  friends  or  rela- 
tives were  laid,  others  to  look  at  the  monuments  and  read  the 
inscriptions. 

A  number  of  them  sought  the  place  where  refreshments 
were  served,  while  others  loitered  around  until  the  train  was 
ready  to  bring  them  back  to  the  city. 


Chapter  VIII. 


THE   alderman. 

The  years  between  1880  and  1890  might  be  said  to  be  the 
golden  era  for  the  City  Council  of  Chicago. 

The  population  of  the  city  had  increased  from  503,185  to 
1,099,850.  This  phenomenal  growth  not  only  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  business  men  and  capitalists  of  America,  but 
also  those  of  Europe. 

A  great  field  was  open  for  speculators.  What  had  been 
farm  and  prairie  was  turned  into  sites  for  dwellings  and  fac- 
tories ;  a  constant  flow  of  emigrants  from  all  parts  of  the 
globe;  every  train  coming  from  the  East  had  a  number  of 
them — men,  women,  and  children.     They  had  to  have  work 


60  THE   ALDERMAN. 

and  homes,  and  provided  a  supply  of  cheap  labor  to  manufac- 
turers, who  commenced  to  locate  in  the  city  by  the  lake. 

Real  estate  got  a  great  boom  from  this  influx  of  people, 
buildings  of  all  descriptions  were  going  up  in  every  direction; 
this,  in  turn,  brought  a  great  number  of  skilled  mechanics, 
especially  those  of  the  building  trades. 

Chicago,  on  account  of  its  central  location,  became  a  great 
shipping  point  for  all  kinds  of  merchandise;  so  the  railway 
interests  became  anxious  to  extend  their  lines  in  the  city ;  espe- 
cially those  which  had  no  right  of  way  of  their  own;  they 
also  required  a  large  amount  of  territory  for  railway  yards, 
where  cars  might  be  stored,  previous  to  being  switched 
to  other  lines ;  or  to  await  being  filled  or  emptied  at  the  differ- 
ent freight  houses. 

The  City  Council,  which  by  ordinance,  had  the  power  to 
grant  valuable  concessions,  had  to  be  seen  and  conciliated,  when 
the  railways  wanted  streets  surrendered  to  them,  on  which  to 
lay  their  tracks.  The  value  of  some  of  these  grants  was  enor- 
mous, acres  of  property  being  given  to  them.  Private  prop- 
erty they  had  to  compensate  the  owners  for ;  but  other,  such 
as  streets  and  space  owned  by  the  city,  was  given  to  them 
free,  excepting  such  private  arrangements  as  they  might  have 
to  make  with  the  city  fathers.  A  combination  of  both  Demo- 
crats and  Republicans  attended  to  the  negotiations.  The 
lighting  of  the  city — a  public  utility  of  the  first  importance — 
furnished  another  fruitful  and  no  doubt  profitable  field  for 
legislation  by  the  City  Council ;  the  spread  of  the  city  made 
the  extension  of  the  gas  mains  necessary.  The  then  company 
had  a  monopoly — they  bled  the  people  by  excessive  charges 
for  gas — and  the  combine  in  the  Council  often  took  a  crack 
at  them  by  introducing  new  gas  ordinances  which  had  f  pro- 
fessedly) for  their  purpose  the  creating  of  rival  companies  in 
the  interest  of  the  dear  people ;  many  of  those  ordinances 
"died  in  the  horning."  by  some  miscarriage  known  only  to  the 
alderman  and  the  company  specially  interested. 

Some  reached  the  stage  of  issuing  a  prospectus,  and  offer- 
ing stock  for  sale ;  ere  they  got  fairly  under  way  the  old  com- 
pany absorbed  them. 


THE    ALDERMAN.  61 

But  the  best  of  all  was  the  local  transportation. 

In  the  early  eighties  there  came  a  man  from  Philadelphia 
who  had  some  disagreement  with  the  authorities  in  that  city, 
which  led  him  to  leave  it.  Coming  to  Chicago,  he  started  in 
business.  It  either  proved  too  slow  for  his  restless  energy, 
or  he  discerned  a  greater  opportunity  in  another  channel.  In 
this  he  was  right;  he  saw  in  the  Chicago  system  of  local  trans- 
portation a  vast  field  in  which  he  might  raise  an  immense 
crop  of  nickels.  He  had  little  resources  of  his  own,  except 
a  fertile  brain  and  an  easy  conscience.  After  maturing  his 
plans,  and  taking  full  account  of  the  difficulties  to  be  sur- 
mounted, he  went  back  East  to  lay  his  scheme  before  the  men 
of  money. 

He  showed  them  golden  opportunity,  like  the  free  lances  of 
old  who  gathered  around  them  a  number  of  kindred  spirits, 
and  aroused  them  to  the  rewards  that  might  be  secured  by 
raids  on  the  property  of  others,  rich  in  fertile  fields,  and  nu- 
merous herds  of  cattle,  of  fair  women,  of  gold  and  silver  and 
jewels,  ail  of  which  loot  they  should  share  in  if  they  would 
but  follow  him. 

The  Philadelphia  promoter  had  graduated  from  a  school  in 
the  art  of  forming  and  manipulating  rings.  He  was  compe- 
tent, when  he  undertook  the  task  of  showing  those  he  wished 
to  interest  a  glowing  picture  of  the  city  by  Lake  Michigan,  its 
rapidly  increasing  population,  its  central  position,  its  level  sur- 
face, its  ever-increasing  area,  and  its  easy  people. 

He  impressed  the  capitalists  of  the  East  with  his  wonderful 
stories  of  the  opportunities  open  to  speculators  with  courage 
and  means. 

"But,"  said  they,  "what  of  the  law?  How  about  the  City 
Council  ?" 

"Leave  them  to  me,"  he  replied.  "I  know  how  to  handle 
them — I  already  have  them  rated.     They're  cheap." 

So  he  came  back  with  the  carte  blanche  authority  from  the 
men  with  money  to  go  ahead,  which  he  did  with  such  success 
that  in  a  very  few  years  he  might  say  in  the  language  of  an- 
other famous  exploiter,  "Veni,  Vidi,  Vici." 

During  the  time  of  his  activity  the  name  of  "gray  wolf"  was 


t)2  THE    ALDERMAN. 

applied  to  certain  members  in  the  City  Council,  of  which  Al- 
derman Thomas  Great  was  one  of  the  most  voracious. 

During  the  decade  under  consideration,  much  local  improve- 
ment had  to  be  done — streets  graded  and  paved,  sidewalks 
laid,  garbage  removed,  etc.  This  necessitated  the  letting  of 
contracts ;  a  fruitful  field  for  graft.  True,  security  had  to  be 
given  by  those  who  were  favored  with  the  work,  and  bonds 
duly  filed,  as  binding  as  if  they  were  tied  with  a  strand  from 
a  spider's  web. 

Great's  first  start  in  life  was  as  a  runner  in  the  old  board  of 
trade — a  messenger  boy,  running  back  and  forth  from  the  office 
to  the  operator  on  the  floor,  a  natty  little  fellow,  attentive  and 
civil.  The  brokers  who  knew  him  spoke  of  him  as  being  a 
"sharp  kid." 

Growing  too  large  for  the  job,  he  obtained  a  position  in  a 
bucket  shop  that  one  day  went  up  with  a  crash.  We  suppose 
they  bought  so  many  puts  and  calls  that  they  were  called,  could 
not  respond,  and  so  were  put  out. 

His  early  training  in  those  two  occupations  made  him  some- 
what a  man  of  affairs.  What  he  lacked  in  education  he  made 
up  in  tact.  He  dabbled  a  little  in  politics,  purely  local,  he 
served  as  judge  at  primary  elections,  and  with  two  other  col- 
leagues, with  but  a  single  thought ;  his  side  always  won,  often 
to  the  chagrin  and  annoyance  of  the  opposition,  who  claimed 
they  had  the  most  votes,  but  that  was  of  little  import,  as  in 
those  days  it  was  the  judges  that  decided. 

Great,  a  young  man  about  this  time,  made  the  acquaintance 
of  a  woman,  the  daughter  of  frugal,  industrious  parents,  who 
had  accumulated  between  four  and  five  thousand  dollars. 
They  dying,  she  fell  sole  heir  to  it.  She  was  some  eight  years 
his  senior,  an  exemplary,  good,  religious  woman. 

Contrary  to  the  advice  of  many  of  her  close  friends,  she 
married  him.  A  woman's  faith  in  the  man  she  loves  is  nearly 
impregnable. 

Early  in  the  eighties  a  number  of  his  political  friends  sug- 
gested that  he  run  for  alderman  of  the  ward  in  which  he  re- 
sided.    He  coaxed  his  wife  into  concurrence;  a  good  woman. 


THE   ALDERMAN.  63 

she  could  only  see  the  honor  in  it — unlike  him,  who  could  only 
see  the  profit  in  it. 

She  placed  her  little  legacy  at  his  disposal,  he  ran,  and  was 
elected.  The  remuneration  at  that  time  was  but  three  dollars 
•?,  meeting.  He  was  all  attention,  and  drew  the  full  amount 
ji  his  salary  every  month ;  not  an  orator,  but  a  worker,  he 
soon  showed  signs  of  growing  prosperity;  he  told  his  wife  he 
was  doing  some  speculating,  and  she,  knowing  his  early  train- 
ing, believed  him.  In  a  year  or  two  he  began  to  furnish  his 
home  in  style.  Re-elected  after  the  expiration  of  his  first 
term,  he  built  himself  a  magnificent  home — things  were  com- 
ing his  way — he  had  lots  of  money  to  be  generous  with,  pop- 
ular with  the  saloonkeepers,  whom  he  relied  on  to  boost  him 
and  slander  his  opponents — he  became  immensely  popular. 

The  corporations  he  served  had  every  confidence  in  his  au- 
dacity and  discretion  when  they  wanted  anything  "put  over." 

A  leading  lawyer  in  the  city  who  had  business  connections 
with  the  man  from  Philadelphia,  spoke  highly  of  him  as  being, 
all  right,  differing  widely  from  many  who  knew  him  inti- 
mately, and  were  willing  to  make  affidavits  that  he  was  all 
wrong. 

Ere  his  third  term  was  over  he  rode  with  his  carriage  and 
pair. 

Too  busy  a  man  to  give  much  attention  to  his  wife,  she  soon 
found  herself  neglected ;  not  that  she  wanted  any  of  the  ma- 
terial comforts  of  life — he  was  far  from  mean,  and  so  sup- 
plied the  home  with  a  liberal  hand,  bought  pictures— -as  to 
who  the  artist  was  he  had  no  knowledge — and  put  in  a  library 
of  books,  few  if  any  of  which  he  ever  opened. 

He  was  gay,  she  was  sedate  and  old  fashioned ;  being  relig- 
iously inclined,  she  sought  solace  in  the  church,  for  which  she 
was  a  willing  worker  and  a  liberal  contributor;  while  he  ca- 
tered for  the  groggery  and  the  thug,  she  ministered  to  the 
needy  and  the  poor. 

Rumors  of  some  of  his  failings  sometimes  reached  her  ears 
— they  were  buried  in  her  bosom.  She  had  taken  him  for  bet- 
ter or  worse,  she  had  married  him  at  an  altar  whose  minister 
told  her  it  was  for  life,  or  till  death  did  them  part. 


64  SCULLY    ANNOUNCES    HIS    DEPARTURE. 

So  she  devoutly,  willingly,  if  not  cheerfully,  carried  her 
cross,  and  hoped  that  her  sufferings  would  be  some  atonement 
for  his  transgressions. 

Thoroughly  imbued  with  Christian  fortitude,  such  as  bore 
up  the  early  Martyrs,  so  that  they  quailed  not  while  being  led 
into  the  arena  to  be  devoured  by  ferocious  beasts — she  silently 
suffered,  still  hoping  that  his  love  might  return  to  her  whose 
love  for  him  neither  neglect,  nor  desertion,  could  ever  effectu- 
ally destroy,  though  she  had  heard  rumors  of  his  infidelity — 
breaches  of  the  marriage  vow  he  had  made  to  her  at  the  altar. 

The  newspapers  of  that  day,  not  entirely  under  the  influence 
of  corporate  wealth,  used  to  publish  many  harsh  things  about 
him,  as  it  did  about  nearly  all  his  colleagues,  in  the  city  legis- 
lature. 

"Politics;"  he  would  say  to  her,  "envy  at  my  growing  influ- 
ence." 

Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  if  this  plea  from  him  in  part  hushed 
up  her  misgivings — especially  when  she  knew  that  he  stood 
high  in  the  estimation  of  many  of  Chicago's  leading  citizens 
in  the  commercial  world — yea,  even  in  the  religious  world, 
which  was  to  her  an  infallible  authority  ? 


Chapter  IX. 


SCULLY   ANNOUNCES  HIS  DEPARTURE. 

On  the  night  of  the  day  on  which  the  funeral  had  taken 
place  Hooligan's  was  deserted,  except  for  the  regulars  that 
hung  round  in  hopes  of  a  "live  one"  dropping  in. 

Hooligan's  temper  was  ruffled ;  he  thought  the  least  the  boys 
might  do  was  to  come  over  and  give  expression  as  to  the  suc- 
cess attending  the  funeral,  how  it  was  worked,  and  his  share 
in  giving  publicity  to  it.  He  felt  he  had  been  slighted  in  not 
having  received  the  compliments  he  deserved,  so  about  12 
p.  m.  (strange  to  relate)  he  sized  up  the  line  of  expectant  con- 
sumers that  sat  on  the  rail,  and  knowing  that  there  wasn't  a 


SCULLV    ANNOUNCES    HIS    DEPARTURE.  65 

nickel  in  any  of  their  jeans,  announced  the  dismal  tidings  that 
he  felt  somewhat  tired  after  the  hard  day's  work  he  had  put 
in,  so  would  close  up  and  go  home ;  he  commenced  to  put  out 
the  lights. 

The  veterans  present  looked  longingly  at  the  bottles  on  the 
shelf  behind  the  counter,  but  to  no  purpose.  Hooligan  was 
blind  to  their  silent  appeal,  so,  like  the  proverbial  Arab,  they 
silently  packed  their  indignation,  lacking  a  tent,  and  went  out 
into  the  chill  night  air. 

Scully  and  his  friends  had  supper  down  town ;  they  were 
all  sobered  up  after  the  event  of  the  day,  and  wanted  to  keep 
their  own  company.  They  ate  in  silence.  After  they  were 
through,  Mort  ordered  cigars,  the  waiter  was  notified  to  clear 
off  the  table,  and  after  doing  so  and  receiving  a  generous  tip, 
left  them  to  themselves. 

Bert  turned  to  Scully  and  inquired :  "What  has  become  of 
Tony?" 

"The  woman  who  had  taken  charge  of  him  the  night  of  the 
fire  took  him  home  with  her.  I  suppose  he  is  all  right  there 
for  a  time,  but  as  she  is  poverty-stricken,  and  has  a  husband 
who  is  an  old  toper,  it  is  a  poor  place  for  the  boy  to  have  to 
stay." 

Mort  agreed  with  Scully,  remarking:  "It  couldn't  be  worse 
than  the  poor  little  fellow  was  used  to." 

"I  think  it  is  the  best  that  could  be  done  for  him — he  was 
born  and  raised  in  the  neighborhood,  and  whatever  friends 
he  has  are  there,"  replied  Hart. 

Squinty  "didn't  know  what  else  they  could  do  for  him ;  the 
money  we  collected  on  the  train  won't  go  very  far.  and  he  is 
too  young  to  go  to  work  at  anything,  only  to  sell  papers." 

"Whatever  is  done,"  said  Phipps,  "the  woman  who  took 
him  in  should  have  a  say  in  the  matter,  and  if  she  is  willing 
to  keep  him,  it's  the  best  place  for  him  to  stay ;  we  should  see, 
however,  that  he  gets  some  good  warm  clothing  out  of  the 
money  first — the  winter  is  here  and  the  poor  little  fellow 
wants  them  badly;  this  done,  we  should  give  Mrs.  O'Brien — 
I  believe  that's  her  name? — the  balance  to  do  the  best  she  can 


66  SCULLY    ANNOUNCES    HIS   DEPARTURE. 

with  it.  The  old  dame  can  board  him  over  winter  with  it, 
anyway." 

"I  don't  see  any  other  course  open  to  us,"  remarked  Scully, 
"so  I  propose  we  see  Hooligan  tomorrow  and  wind  up  the 
whole  affair."  He  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  the  waiter  to 
iee  what  the  gentlemen  wanted — "Bring  me  a  cigar !" 

"I  see  you  are  not  drinking  tonight,  Scully,"  remarked 
Phipps. 

"No,  I  am  on  the  water-wagon,  and  am  going  to  try  and 
keep  my  seat  on  it  for  some  time." 

"I  feel  like  cutting  it  out,  too,"  replied  Mort ;  "we  have  all 
been  going  it  too  strong  lately." 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  the  work  of  the  day 
had  interfered  with  their  usual  levity,  they  were  depressed; 
even  Squinty,  who  could  grin  at  any  kind  of  remark,  was  out 
of  sorts. 

Scully  lit  his  cigar  and,  rising,  said:  "Boys,  we  have  all 
trained  together  since  we  were  kids.  It  is  no  use  to  go  over 
our  past  history,  we  all  have  had  good  times  and  bad  times, 
we  have  ever  been  loyal  to  one  another,  when  one  of  us  got 
into  a  scrape  the  others  did  the  very  best  they  could  to  help 
him  out  of  it.  I  want  to  tell  you,  however,  that  the  past  few 
days  have  had  their  effect  upon  me,  and  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  we  have  all  been  playing  a  poor  game ;  not  worth 
the  risk,  in  my  opinion — there  is  nothing  in  it!  So  I  have 
decided  to  try  something  else."  At  the  close  of  his  remarks 
he  sat  down. 

The  company  looked  at  one  another,  each  waiting  for  some 
one  to  make  a  reply.  Mort  broke  the  silence  by  asking  Scully 
if  he  were  going  to  seek  a  job? 

"That's  what  Fm  going  to  do.  I  may  not  get  one  here, 
more  than  likely  I  won't  look  for  one  in  Chicago,  but  America 
is  a  big  place,  and  I  feel  I  want  a  change  of  atmosphere. 
Wherever  I  go,  I  want  it  understood  that  I  will  never  forget 
you  fellows,  and  if  I  should  be  fortunate,  and  in  a  position  to 
do  any  of  you  a  favor,  you  can  rely  upon  me." 

Mort,  who  was  always  the  closest  supporter  of  Scully  and 
his  most  ardent  admirer,  ridiculed  the  idea  of  Scully  leaving 


?tOibi>on 


Scully  Announces  His  Departurk 


SCULLY   ANNOUNCES    HIS   DEPARTURE.  b7 

the  city.  "Why,  Mike,  if  you  want  a  job  you  can  get  one. 
Great  stands  well  with  the  administration — we  will  see  him, 
and  if  he  don't  fix  you,  and  that  quick,  we  will  make  it  hot 
for  him  at  the  next  primary," 

"He  will  be  only  too  glad  to  go  to  the  front  for  you,  Mike," 
remarked  Phipps. 

"If  he  don't,"  said  Hart,  "I'll  punch  his  head."  Rock 
grinned  and  nodded,  as  much  as  to  say,  "That's  the  way  to 
talk;  count  me  in  on  that,  too." 

Scully  shook  his  head  as  he  replied :  "Boys,  I  feel  that  you 
are  all  friends  of  mine,  and  would  go  the  limit  for  me ;  but 
what  you  suggest  won't  do.  In  my  present  state  of  mind  I 
would  not  be  a  tool  of  Great's,  if  he  would  make  me  Commis- 
sioner of  Public  Works ;  you  know  I  was  never  very  fond  of 
him — true,  I  have  helped  him  on  many  occasions,  we  all  did! 
But  you  know  my  opinion  of  him,  and  since  my  interview  with 
Mrs.  Great,  I  think  tar  and  feathers  too  good  for  him.  I 
know  some  of  you  don't  look  at  things  in  the  same  light  as  I 
do.  I  am  not  a  saint,  by  a  long  sight,  nor  as  good  as  I  should 
be,  but  I  still  have  some  respect  for  a  decent  woman.  I  don't 
forget  that  I  had  a  mother,  and  by  the  Eternal  God,  if  I  had 
a  sister  and  he  was  to  treat  her  as  he  treats  his  wife,  I  would 
cut  his  heart  out." 

"Come,  come,  Scully!"  said  Phipps,  "you  are  too  senti- 
mental tonight.  I  am  afraid  Father  Nolan  has  been  putting 
the  fear  of  God  in  your  heart.  You  know  that  many  of  our 
best  people  always  support  Great." 

"True  for  you,  Phipps,"  chimed  in  Hart.  "I  know  some 
who  would  not  miss  Mass  in  a  morning  for  fear  a  house 
would  fall  down  on  them,  or  eat  meat  on  a  Friday  thinking  it 
might  choke  them,  but  who  would  insult  you  if  you  said  a 
word  against  little  Tommy." 

"Ah,  those  old  craw-thumpers!"  exclaimed  Mort;  "the 
devil,  if  there  is  one,  will  surely  get  a  lot  of  them.  They  are 
only  hypocrites." 

"Well,  if  they  are,"  replied  Hart,  joining  in,  "even  some  of 
the  clergy  feel  very  kindly  disposed  to  him.  I'd  like  to  know 
from  you,  Mike,  who  is  the  most  popular  man  when  they  are 


68  SCULLY    ANNOUNCES    HIS   DEPARTURE. 

running  a  bazaar?  Were  you  ever  at  one  when  he  was  pres- 
ent that  you  didn't  see  a  reverend  gentleman  trotting  him 
around  and  introducing  him  to  the  members  of  the  married 
women's  sodaUty?" 

''Yes,  and  to  the  young  ladies  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  too," 
chimed  in  Rock,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear,  slapping  Hart,  who 
sat  next  to  him,  on  the  shoulder.  "Good  for  you.  Hart,"  at 
the  same  time  looking  at  Scully,  as  if  to  egg  him  on  for  a  reply, 

Scully  protested  against  going  further  into  this  subject.  "I 
am  not  going  to  ask  Great  for  a  job.  I,  however,  don't  blame 
anyone  that  does — different  men  have  different  minds.  In 
fact,  I  know,  myself,  some  men  who  you  would  think  had 
character,  who  profess  to  think  Great  all  right — that's  their 
affair;  so  that  if  any  of  you  fellows  can  use  him,  I  have  no 
complaint  to  offer." 

Mort  agreed  with  Scully  that  the  subject  was  getting  a  little 
too  deep.  "But  the  fact  still  remains,"  said  he,  "that  no  mat- 
ter what  our  personal  opinion  of  the  little  stiff  is,  we  can  not 
afford  to  fall  out  with  him,  as  there  is  no  telling  how  soon 
either  one  of  us  or  some  of  our  friends  might  want  to  use 
him." 

"He  stands  ace-high  with  the  State's  Attorney,"  remarked 
Hart,  "and  you  know  I  have  a  little  case  pending." 

"Yes,  and  with  the  police  magistrates,"  chimed  in  Rock. 

"We  all  know  he  stands  in  with  the  corporations,"  continued 
Bert.  "Unless  you  have  his  recommendations  your  name's 
Dennis,  and  as  for  the  other  alderman  of  the  ward,  if  he 
wants  a  job  for  any  of  his  constits,  he  has  to  get  it  through 
Tommy — isn't  that  so,  Mike?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  it  is,  but  that  only  goes  to  show  the  rotten- 
ness of  the  whole  infernal  political  system.  If  affairs  go  on 
as  they  have  been  doing  in  this  city  for  a  few  years  more, 
men's  souls  will  not  be  their  own.  That  being  the  case,  I 
think  it  would  be  good  for  us  all  to  try  new  pastures.  My 
mind  is  made  up ;  where  I  will  decide  to  go  I  have  no  knowl- 
edge. I  intend  to  take  to  the  tall  timbers,  anyway.  I  think 
I  can  rough  it  for  a  year  or  two  and  if  the  worst  comes  to 
the  worst  I  can  come  back  to  Chicago." 


SCULLY    ANNOUNCES    HIS   DEPARTURE.  b\) 

Mort  told  Scully  he  had  a  dose  of  melancholy.  "A  good 
night's  sleep  and  you  will  change  your  mind.  Come,  waiter, 
take  this  order.  When  are  we  going  to  see  Hooligan,  to  have 
a  settlement  with  him?" 

Phipps  told  them  that  he  would  not  be  on  guard  till  even- 
ing, so  there  would  be  no  use  of  going  there  until  after  7 
o'clock,  so  it  was  agreed  to  go  the  following  evening. 

Hart,  changing  the  conversation,  remarked:  "Well,  poor 
Murphy  had  a  sad  wind-up,  but  if  he  was  only  able  to  see  the 
grand  finale,  he  would  admit  we  sent  him  on  his  last  journey 
in  good  style." 

"Yes,  I  think  we  covered  ourselves  with  glory,'"  replied 
Bert;  "but,  sure,  Hooligan  will  claim  all  the  credit." 

"How  the  devil  did  he  get  such  a  hold  on  the  papers?"  said 
Phipps,  in  an  inquiring  tone.  "I  would  be  willing  to  bet  a 
dollar  that  fellow  will  be  running  for  office  before  anothet 
year." 

"Why,  don't  you  know  what  he  is  looking  for?"  said  Rock. 

"No,"  was  Bert's  reply. 

"You  know  the  night  that  I  tended  bar  for  him,  during  the 
rush  after  the  fire?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  he  told  me  before  he  went  home,  after  the  crowd 
had  gone,  that  he  tho.ught  he  could  get  on  the  bench,  as  he 
stood  well  with  some  of  the  judges  of  the  upper  court,  and 
that  Great  had  told  him  to  name  his  place,  and  that  anything 
he  could  do  for  him  would  be  done." 

"Well,  that  caps  the  climax !"  exclaimed  Mort.  "Why,  the 
fellow  is  as  ignorant  as  a  kish  of  brogues,  and  he  knows  as 
much  about  law  as  does  a  stray  goat." 

"That  cuts  little  figure,"  replied  Phipps;  "sure,  he  would 
be  as  good  at  interpreting  the  laws  as  most  of  the  ninnies  we 
send  to  Congress  and  the  Legislature  to  frame  them.  Be- 
sides, would  he  not  have  the  valuable  advice  and  counsel  of 
his  friend,  the  alderman,  who  would  put  him  onto  the  fine 
points?  Don't  be  surprised  if  he  is  looking  for  something 
next  fall  at  the  county  election.  He  has  got  the  dough,  and 
that's  what  counts." 


70  SCULLY   ANNOUNCES    HIS   DEPARTURE. 

Mort  yawned  as  he  said,  "Booze  and  boodle  are  more  of  a 
factor  nowadays  than  ability  and  respectability,  so  I  wouldn'r 
be  a  bit  surprised  to  see  him  land  something  good." 

Squinty  Rock  (always  sarcastic)  thought  "he  would  have 
some  of  the  clergy  with  him,  too." 

"Isn't  it  about  time  we  went  home?"  inquired  Scully,  at  the 
same  time  volunteering  the  information  in  answer  to  Rock, 
"I  know  one  he  won't  have  with  him,  and  that's  the  gentleman 
you  heard  preach  today.  Gome,  boys,  let  us  be  going;  we  all 
need  some  rest." 

The  following  night  Scully  and  his  friends  met  at  Hooli- 
gan's, whose  first  inqury  was:  "What  happened  you  fellov/s 
last  night?  Why  didn't  you  come  around?  I  was  here  all 
alone  by  myself.  As  you  didn't  turn  up  before  twelve,  I  closed 
and  went  home." 

"I  suppose  business  was  bad,"  suggested  Mort;  "you  had 
the  regulars  here — surely  you  didn't  turn  them  out  into  the 
cold,  bleak  world,  a  night  like  last  night  was,  did  you?" 

"What  else  could  I  do  ?  Business  is  so  bad  I  cannot  afford 
a  night-man,  so  had  no  one  to  mind  the  place." 

"Too  bad !  too  bad !"  said  Phipps  in  a  sarcastically  sympa- 
thetic tone. 

"Besides,  I  was  played  out,"  continued  Hooligan.  "You 
know  I  have  had  a  lot  of  trouble  these  last  few  days,  what 
with  inquests  and  funerals,  and  having  to  instruct  and  enter- 
tain the  press,  my  business  has  been  sadly  neglected.  What 
do  you  want  ?"     This  was  in  reply  to  Mort's  order. 

Scully  would  take  a  little  ginger  ale.  Hooligan  looked  sur- 
prised at  him.     "You  mean  on  the  side,  I  suppose." 

"No,  I  want  it  straight.  I  am  through  with  the  booze  for 
some  time."  Hooligan  laughed,  the  others  ordered  what  they 
wanted.  Hooligan  looked  straight  over  at  the  row  of  wall- 
flowers, who  immediately  came  to  the  front.  Mort  tendered 
a  two-dollar  bill  for  payment.  Hooligan  looked  over  those 
present,  as  if  he  was  figuring  up  the  amount,  and  for  fear  he 
would  charge  too  much  he  rang  up  one-thirty-five. 

Squinty  looked  over  the  group,  then  at  the  register,  and 


SCULLY    ANNOUNCES    HIS    DEPARTURE.  71 

after  a  little  mental  calculation  figured  that  Hooligan  had 
short-changed  Mort  just  twenty-five  cents. 

Mort  put  his  sixty-five  cents  in  his  pocket,  giving  no  atten- 
tion to  the  correctness  of  his  bill. 

The  vendor  of  liquors  is  hardly  ever  questioned  as  to  the 
correctness  of  his  figures  when  a  number  are  drinking  together. 
His  prices  seem  staple — he  is  not  called  on  to  give  bargains. 
It  would  seem  he  is  the  only  business  man  that  gives  value  for 
the  money  received,  even  when  he  is  short-changing  his  cus- 
tomers, a  prevalent  habit  with  many  of  them.  As,  for  in- 
stance, how  many  politicians  when  in  pursuit  of  office  com- 
plain when  his  good  friend  and  loyal  supporter,  the  bar-keep, 
rings  up  a  five-dollar  bill  for  seventy  cents  worth  of  drinks? 

After  Mort's  treat  had  been  drunk,  Scully,  speaking  to 
Hooligan,  said :  "I  understand  the  collection  on  the  train 
amounted  to  seventy-nine  dollars  and  forty-five  cents.  We 
talked  the  matter  over  last  night  amongst  ourselves  and 
thought  the  best  thing  we  could  do  with  it  was  to  buy  Tony  a 
complete  outfit  for  the  winter,  and  make  arrangements  with 
Mrs.  O'Brien  to  board  him  until  spring,  with  the  balance. 
What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"I  have  been  to  a  great  deal  of  expense,  and  Murphy  owed 
me  quite  a  bill,"  whined  Hooligan. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Phipps.  "'What  has  Murphy's 
bill  to  do  with  the  seventy-nine  dollars  that  was  collected  for 
the  youngster?     He  will  get  every  cent  of  it." 

"Well,  I  should  think  so,"  said  Mort,  in  a  tone  that  made 
Hooligan  back  water  immediately. 

Hooligan  protested,  'T  don't  want  any  of  it,  but  I  thought 
I  might  as  well  handle  it  as  any  one  else;  but  what  about  the 
ten  dollars  for  the  flowers?" 

There  was  a  chorus  of  voices :  "We  owe  you  that,  and  we 
are  going  to  pay  you  as  soon  as  we  can." 

"I  thought  it  would  be  no  harm  to  deduct  the  ten  from  the 
seventy-nine  forty-five,"  continued  Hooligan. 

This  proposition  riled  Scully,  who  told  Hooligan  to  shut  up, 
and  count  the  money  over,  as  they  were  going  to  settle  the 


72  TONY   murphy's  NEW   HOME. 

matter  there  ancj  now,  and  that  HooHgan  could  come  along 
if  he  liked. 

Hooligan  wanted  to  know  the  reason  for  their  hurry — 
"There  is  plenty  of  time." 

Scully  replied  by  telling  him  that  they  wanted  to  get  through 
with  it  and  get  it  off  their  hands. 

"The  sooner  the  better,"  said  Mort;  "perhaps  the  poor 
woman  that  has  Tony  has  enough  to  do  to  take  care  of  her 
own,  and  a  little  ready  cash  would  help  considerable." 

Hooligan,  seeing  that  further  remonstrance  would  avail  noth- 
ing, pulled  out  his  roll  of  bills  and  counted  out  eighty  dollars, 
one  of  which  he  changed  at  the  cash  register  and  laid  the  exact 
amount  of  the  collection  on  the  counter  before  them. 

"Take  that  money,  Mort,"  was  Scully's  instruction,  asking 
at  the  same  time  if  Hooligan  would  come  along.  Hooligan 
informed  them  he  had  no  one  he  could  leave  behind  to  mind 
the  bar. 

So  they  departed  without  him,  he  remarking  as  they  went 
out  about  the  hurry  they  were  in  "and  after  all  my  trouble." 
He  felt  slighted. 


Chapter  X. 


TONY    MURPHY  S    NEW    HOME. 


Tony  Murphy's  new  home  was  very  much  like  his  old  one; 
in  the  street  in  which  he  was  born,  but  a  few  doors  away,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street ;  Mrs.  O'Brien,  the  lady  of  the 
establishment,  knew  him  from  his  birth ;  there  was  a  Mr. 
O'Brien,  her  husband — he  was  only  a  star  boarder,  who  both- 
ered himself  very  little  with  domestic  affairs;  when  he  worked 
he  brought  home  part  of  his  salary;  his  wages  were  small,  but 
from  the  time  he  got  it  until  he  arrived  at  his  domicile,  many's 
the  time  it  grew  beautifully  less. 

He  was  of  a  genial  disposition,  and  generally  on  the  day 
"the  cow  calved"  (as  he  called  pay  day),  he  visited  a  number 


TON^     murphy's    new    HOME.  73 

ot  his  countrymen  who  were  in  the  same  Hne  of  business  as 
our  friend  HooHgan.  HooHgan's  was  the  last  call  on  his  way 
home,  and  no  matter  what  direction  he  came  from — north, 
south,  east,  or  west — he  had  to  call  into  Hooligan's  while  pass- 
ing, on  the  eventful  day  on  which  the  ghost  walked.  Mrs. 
O'Brien,  about  the  time  her  spouse  was  due,  kept  all  the 
younger  O'Briens  running  back  and  forward  to  Hooligan's, 
to  see  if  their  father  was  in  there  celebrating. 

If  any  of  the  scouts  reported  that  he  was,  she  immediately 
donned  her  shawl  and  her  war-paint,  stormed  Hooligan's  tem- 
ple of  personal  liberty,  and  made  a  prisoner  of  O'Brien.  This 
interference  with  Hooligan's  legitimate  business  never  caused 
him  to  protest — he  knew  Mrs.  O'Brien  and  was  aware  of  the 
fact  that  if  he  did  she  would  give  him  his  "Sunday  name." 
As  it  was,  she  used  to  give  him  a  look  that  invariably  caused 
him  to  face  the  cash  register  until  O'Brien  was  led  away  into 
captivity. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  was  an  excellent  woman,  the  mother  of  four 
children.  The  oldest,  Mamie,  worked  in  the  tin  factory.  She 
was  minus  a  finger,  which  was  punched  out  one  day  along 
with  the  lid  of  a  tin  can.  She  was  feeding  a  stamping  ma- 
chine. This  was  an  error  (she  should  have  known  better  at 
her  age — she  was  gone  twelve)  ;  she  put  her  finger  in  as  well 
as  the  tin,  so  it  was  nipped  off  as  clean  as  a  whistle ;  the  fore- 
man was  very  angry  with  her — tied  a  rag  around  the  stump 
that  was  conveniently  left,  and  sent  her  home  with  the  remark 
that  she  should  be  more  careful.  She  was  recompensed  with 
a  steady  job,  and  at  the  time  of  Tony's  arrival  was  fourteen 
years  old,  and  drawing  a  salary  of  five  dollars  a  week. 

Mamie  had  a  brother  Pat ;  he  was  twelve  years  old,  and  be- 
sides going  to  school,  followed  the  same  line  of  business  as 
young  Murphy,  that  of  vending  newspapers.  There  was  an- 
other boy  of  ten,  and  a  little  girl  of  seven,  so  that  whether  old 
man  O'Brien  had  a  job  or  not,  Mrs.  O'Brien  was  never  out  of 
employment. 

The  O'Brien  establishment  had  one  more  room  than  that  of 
the  late  Mr.  Murphy,  namely,  four ;  parlor,  in  which  she  and 
the  old  man  slept :  two  bedrooms,  in  one  of  which  the  two 


74  TONY  murphy's  new  homl:. 

girls  slept,  and  in  the  other,  the  two  boys.  The  kitchen 
served  for  cooking,  dining  and  sitting  room,  so  that  they  had 
plenty  of  room — nOt  too  much,  but,  as  they  say  of  the  street 
cars,  there  is  always  room  for  one  more,  so  Tony  was  taken  in 
and  bunked  with  the  two  boys,  a  handy  arrangement  in  the 
cold  weather,  for  the  fellow  whose  turn  it  was  to  sleep  in  the 
middle.  In  the  case  of  an  altercation,  which  frequently  oc- 
curred, Peter,  the  younger  boy,  changed  quarters  and  squeezed 
in  with  his  sisters,  in  spite  of  their  protest,  and  to  the  delighi 
of  Pat  and  Tony,  who  often  had  the  bed  all  to  themselves. 

The  permanency  of  the  arrangement  for  Tony's  lodging 
was  agreed  to  by  Mrs.  O'Brien  of  the  first  part,  and  Mr. 
Michael  Scully  of  the  second  part,  and  was  duly  ratified  later, 
as  our  readers  will  hear. 

Mamie  worked  the  day  of  the  funeral.  On  her  arrival  home 
she  found  Tony  still  sobbing.  On  seeing  him,  a  tear  stole 
down  her  cheek.  Brushing  it  oflf  she  sat  down  on  a  chair  and, 
pulling  him  over  to  her,  began  to  console  him  as  best  she 
could ;  the  mother  instinct  inherent  in  the  baby  girl,  when  she 
gets  her  first  doll,  was  strong  in  Mamie,  and  she  had  practiced 
in  being  long  an  assistant  mother  to  the  younger  members  of 
the  family. 

Mamie's  heart  went  out  in  all  its  fullness  to  the  little  suf- 
ferer. She  kissed  him  and  gave  vent  to  her  most  endearing 
expressions,  told  him  that  he  should  stay  with  her  and  her 
mother,  that  they  would  always  be  good  to  him,  that  they  all 
felt  sorry  for  his  troubles,  but  would  try  to  comfort  him  as 
best  they  could.  Young  Pat,  who  had  just  arrived  after  dis- 
tributing the  evening  edition  of  the  paper,  joined  in  the  eflFort 
to  pacify  him.  He  had  not  the  tact  of  the  girl;  boylike,  he 
told  Tony  to  brace  up  and  be  a  man.  Tony  still  lamented  for 
his  mother.  "Won't  you  be  a  mother  to  him,  mamma?"  was 
the  boy's  appeal. 

"Sure  I  will !  and  be  good  to  him,  don't  you  know  I  will?" 

Supper  being  ready,  Mamie  placed  a  chair  for  Tony  by  her 
own,  and  encouraged  him  to  eat,  picking  out  the  daintiest 
pieces  in  their  very  humble  fare.     Tony  was  too  full  of  grief 


TONY    murphy's    NEW    HOME.  75 

to  have  room  for  anything  else,  so  ate  very  sparingly  in  spite 
of  Mamie's  persistent  pressing. 

After  supper  they  all  sat  around,  even  Patsy,  much  as  he 
would  have  liked  to  take  his  customary  evening  around  the 
corner  with  the  rest  of  the  urchins,  many  of  whom  could  be 
seen  from  the  window  looking  up  and  whistling  around  the 
door  with  the  object  of  attracting  Patsy's  attention,  so  he  would 
come  out  and  give  them  the  news.  The  little  girls,  more  se- 
date and  reserved,  met  a  little  further  down  the  street,  and 
like  females  of  a  riper  age  kept  up  an  animated  discourse  in 
reference  to  the  fire,  the  funeral  and  the  rescue. 

About  half-past  eight  there  was  a  sound  of  footsteps  on  the 
stairs,  a  knock  at  the  parlor  door,  to  which  Mrs.  O'Brien  at- 
tended. Letting  in  Scully,  Mort,  Bert,  Phipps,  Hart  and 
Rock,  Mrs.  O'Brien  shook  hands  with  them  all  in  turn,  invit- 
ing them  to  be  seated. 

"I  have  often  noticed  ye  at  the  corner,"  she  was  lavish  in 
her  praise  of  Scully,  to  his  great  embarrassment.  She  told 
him  that  he  was  the  talk  of  the  neighborhood,  and  she  felt 
that  God's  blessing  would  follow  him  wherever  he  went. 

Scully  thanked  her  for  her  kindly  expression.  "But  we 
are  here  on  business,"  he  remarked,  and  inquired  where  Tony 
was. 

"He  is  in  the  kitchen  with  Mamie,  and  the  rest  of  the  chil- 
dren. The  poor  little  fellow  is  broken-hearted;  it's  a  terrible 
misfortune  for  him  to  lose  his  parents  and  to  be  left  alone  in 
the  world,  as  he  was."  She  was  then  going  on  to  give  a  his- 
tory of  how  long  she  knew  the  Murphys,  and  her  acquaintance 
with  Mrs.  Murphy  before  she  was  married,  and  that  Murphy 
was  a  foolish  man,  when  Scully  told  her  that  they  agreed  with 
every  word  she  had  said,  but  now  as  they  are  gone  it  could 
not  be  helped,  and  what  they  wanted  to  see  her  about  was 
what  arrangements  they  could  make  with  her  to  take  care  of 
the  boy,  at  least  for  a  time. 

"He  will  never  go  without  a  meal's  meat  as  long  as  we  have 
it.  I  knew  his  father  when  he  was  a  strapping  lump  of  a  boy 
just  after  he  came  from  the  old  country,  and  if  it  wasn't  for 
the  drink  he  would  have  been  able  to  keep  a  good  job  he  had 


76  TONY  murphy's  new  home. 

in  the  freight  house,  but  sure,  what  room  have  I  to  talk,  my 
own  man  has  the  same  faiUng!" 

Mort  inquired  where  Mr.  O'Brien  was  now. 

"I  suppose  he  is  at  the  corner,  bad  'cess  to  him,  but  sure, 
he  is  no  loss,  anyhow !" 

This  estimate  of  Mr.  O'Brien's  worth  caused  her  visitors 
to  smile. 

Joe  Phipps  inquired  what  Mr.  O'Brien  was  doing  at  present.. 

"Warming  his  shins  in  Hooligan's,  I  suppose." 

"No,  I  mean  what  is  he  working  at?" 

"Devil  a  thing  at  all;  he  is  expecting  a  job  on  the  railway, 
he  said  the  Alderman  was  going  to  get  it  for  him.  I  think 
the  Alderman  is  a  good  promiser,  anyhow.  All  Pat  has  been 
able  to  do  for  the  past  few  years  is  about  four  or  five  months 
in  the  year,  and  that  at  election  time,  when  he  gets  a  job  on 
the  streets." 

"Well,  Mrs.  O'Brien,  perhaps  your  husband  does  the  best  he 
can.  You  know  times  are  hard,  and  positions  are  difficult 
to  get." 

Scully,  who  was  getting  impatient  again,  called  Mrs. 
O'Brien's  attention  to  the  business  that  had  brought  them. 
"We  want  to  see  if  you  can  take  care  of  the  boy  over  the 
winter?" 

Mrs.  O'Brien  took  umbrage  at  Scully's  language. 

"Do  you  think  that  Pd  desert  him  now,  and  the  winter  on? 
Sure,  I  was  at  his  christening,  and  a  pleasant  time  we  had — 
there  was  great  company  there  that  day.  There  was  great 
rejoicing,  and  lashings  of  everything,  both  eating  and  drink- 
ing. No  one  could  think  at  that  day  the  poor  child  could  come 
to  this."  Mrs.  O'Brien  placed  her  apron  to  her  eyes  to  wipe 
away  a  tear  that  flowed  from  a  generous,  motherly  heart. 
This  portrayal  of  feeling  was  not  lost  on  her  young  men  vis- 
itors, who  were  anxious  to  conclude  the  business. 

Scully  looked  over  at  Mort,  who  he  knew  was  a  diplomat, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "You  go  ahead,  Mort." 

"Listen  to  me  a  moment,  Mrs.  O'Brien,"  commenced  Mort. 
"Myself  and  friends  think  that  this  is  the  best  place  for  Tony 
to  stay.     We  believe  that  with  you  he  will  receive  kindly  treat- 


TONV    murphy's    NKW    HOME.  77* 

ment,  and,  having  company,  he  will  be  more  likely  to  forget 
his  troubles,  being  amongst  friends  who  have  sympathy  with 
him,  and  with  whom  he  is  acquainted,  than  he  would  be 
amongst  strangers.  Isn't  that  your  opinion  ?"  he  said,  looking 
at  his  colleagues,  who  nodded  their  approval. 

"Well,  Mrs.  O'Brien,"  said  Mort,  continuing,  "as  you  know, 
we  made  a  collection  on  the  car  and  got  seventy-nine  dollars 
and  fort3^-five  cents ;  what  we  propose  to  do  with  it  is  to  buy 
him  some  good  warm  clothing,  that  he  is  very  much  in  need  of 
now,  as  the  cold  weather  is  here,  and  give  you  the  balance  to 
use  as  best  you  know  how,  as  he  has  not  a  living  relative  as 
far  as  we  knew,  to  give  themselves  any  bother  about  him. 
The  entire  matter  is  up  to  you,  and  there  is  none  likely  to  dis- 
pute your  authority." 

"I  hope  that  will  be  satisfactory  to  Mr.  O'Brien,"  remarked 
Phipps. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  told  them  that  Mr.  O'Brien  gave  himself  little 
trouble  about  the  running  of  the  house,  a  piece  of  information 
that  her  listeners  thought  was  more  than  probably  true. 

It  was  at  length  decided  to  give  Mrs.  O'Brien  fifty  dollars, 
reserving  the  twenty-nine  forty-five,  and  that  she  and  Mort 
.should  go  down  together  the  following  day  and  buy  what 
clothing  she  thought  suitable. 

This  was  agreeable  to  Mrs.  O'Brien,  who  told  them  that  she 
would  be  ready  to  go  with  the  gentleman  any  time  it  suited 
him. 

Mort  counted  out  the  money,  which  Mrs.  O'Brien  folded  up 
carefully  in  a  piece  of  cloth  in  which  there  was  already  some 
change,  and  put  it  down  in  her  breast,  the  general  safety  vault 
in  which  women  of  her  age  and  race  keep  their  treasures. 

The  young  men  expressed  a  desire  to  see  Tony,  who  was 
called  in,  followed  by  Mamie,  her  brother  Pat,  and  the  two 
younger  members  of  the  family. 

Tony,  on  sight  of  Scully  and  the  others,  commenced  crying. 
Scully  drew  him  over  towards  him,  stroked  down  his  hair,  ap- 
pealing to  him  to  be  a  little  man.  "You  are  amongst  friends, 
Tony ;  I  am  sure  they  will  all  be  good  to  you.  Now  there  is 
Mamie — you'll  be  good  to  him,  Miss  O'Brien,  won't  you  ?" 


78  TONY  murphy's  new  home. 

"We  will  all  be  kind  to  him,"  the  girl  replied;  "he  will  be 
one  of  the  family," 

"And  there  is  Patrick,  he  will  be  good  company  for  you,  and 
there  is  the  other  little  boy  and  girl,  all  good  friends  of  yours." 

"I  will  see  that  no  one  jumps  on  him  while  I'm  around," 
boasted  Patsy;  "all  the  kids  in  the  street  likes  Tony"  (look- 
ing over  at  the  men  to  see  signs  of  approval)  ;  there  was  only 
one  of  them  that  he  ever  had  any  trouble  with,  and  that  was 
the  Schultz  boy,  and  that  was  all  on  account  of  Schultz  being 
too  fresh;  but  if  he  ever  says  anything  to  Tony  again  I'll  kick 
his  head  ofif." 

Patsy's  mother  smiled,  and  then  frowned,  telling  him  to  "sit 
down" — she  had  to  admonish  him  in  the  presence  of  strangers. 
She  was,  however,  confident  that  Patsy  could  and  would  do  it, 
if  he  had  to.  Mamie  looked  approvingly  at  her  brother,  re- 
marking that  Schultz  was  a  bad  boy. 

Scully  hoped  that  the  necessity  of  Mr.  Schultz  losing  his 
head  might  not  occur,  that  the  boys  should  all  be  friends,  and 
keep  good-natured. 

Thanking  Mrs.  O'Brien,  they  shook  hands  with  Tony, 
Mamie  and  Patsy  and  prepared  to  leave.  Mort  told  Tony  "I 
am  coming  for  you  at  10  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  Mrs. 
O'Brien  and  I  are  going  down  town  to  buy  you  some  nice  new 
clothes." 

Calling  into  Hooligan's,  they  noticed  O'Brien,  sitting  on  the 
bench  with  a  few  more  of  Hooligan's  steady  customers,  just 
waiting  for  some  one  to  come  in  who  had  the  price. 

"Come,  take  a  drink,"  said  Phipps.  as  he  approached  the 
bar;  "how  are  you.  O'Brien?  We  were  just  over  to  your 
house." 

"Is  that  so?     Well,  I  suppose  you  saw  the  old  woman." 

"Yes,  she  sent  you  her  regards,"  said  Mort. 

"Is  that  all  she  sent?"  inquired  O'Brien.  "I  thought  maybe 
she  would  send  me  a  dollar." 

"She  said  you  could  have  anything  you  wanted,  that  you 
were  the  best  man  ever  left  County  Clare,  and  that  you  were 
so  good  she  was  sorry  she  ever  met  you,  because,  she  said, 


TONY    murphy's    NEW    HOME.  79 

she  had  spoiled  you ;  but  that  she  is  saving  a  Httle  money,  so 
she  could  divorce  you." 

"Did  she  say  all  that,  Mr.  Mort?" 

"Well,  I'll  leave  it  to  Bert  if  she  didn't." 

"Sure,  I  would  just  as  soon  believe  you  as  Bert,  and  maybe 
sooner,  but  sure,  if  she  did,  a  good-locking  young  man  like 
me  would  soon  get  another.  Isn't  that  so,  Hooligan?"  Hooli- 
gan nodded  his  affirmation. 

"Well,  your  wife  is  all  right,  O'Brien,"  said  Scully;  "and 
stick  to  her  as  long  as  you  can." 

"Would  wax  stick  to  leather?"  said  O'Brien,  laughing; 
"here  is  my  regards." 

"We  gave  the  Murphys  a  good  set-ofif,  didn't  we,  Mr.  Demp- 
sey?"  said  Phipps,  speaking  to  the  man  who  had  acted  as  one 
of  the  pall-bearers. 

"The  best  that  was  ever  on  the  West  Side  for  years,"  was 
Dempsey's  reply.  "I  suppose  it  won't  be  many  years  till  some 
of  us  is  following  him.  There's  O'Brien,"  said  Dempsey,  con- 
tinuing; "I  don't  think  he  will  last  over  the  winter.  Sure,  if 
he  had  any  decency  he  would  have  died  years  ago." 

"With  what?" 

"Old  age,  sure,"  was  Dempsey's  answer. 

"Old  age!  Old  age,  you  say!  Sure,  Dempsey,  you're  old 
enough  to  be  my  father — I  know  the  night  T  was  born." 

"When  was  that?"  inquired  Phipps. 

"The  night  of  the  big  wind,  to  be  sure,"  said  O'Brien, 
smiling. 

"Well,  it's  a  pity  the  wind  wasn't  a  little  bigger,  so  that  it 
would  have  taken  you  away  with  it,"  was  Dempsey's  rejoinder. 

The  crowd  laughed  heartily  at  this  sally. 

"Mrs.  O'Brien  has  agreed  to  keep  Tony,"  said  Mort,  ad- 
dressing Hooligan. 

"I  am  glad  of  that!  That  will  give  me  a  chance  to  look 
after  him.  I  want  to  keep  my  eye  on  that  youngster,  and  see 
that  he  don't  go  astray." 

Scully  looked  significantly  at  Mort;  four  of  the  young  men 
sat  down  at  the  table  on  which  they  had  played  cards  on  that 


80  TONY    murphy's    NEW    HOME. 

fatal  night.  Hart  and  Rock  stood  up,  Hooligan  brought  over 
the  cards  and  a  piece  of  chalk. 

"We  are  not  going  to  play  tonight,"'  said  Scully.  Hooli- 
gan took  the  cards  away  and  went  back  behind  the  bar. 

Scully  then  reverted  to  the  conversation  he  had  the  night 
before  as  to  his  going  away. 

"I  hope  you  have  changed  your  mind,"  said  Bert. 

"No,  I  have  not,  my  mind  is  made  up.  I  am  going  for  a 
time,  anyway.     I  am  sick  of  Chicago." 

"Where  are  you  going  to?"  asked  Mort. 

"I  have  not  decided  yet.  I  am  going  West,  but  how  far  I 
cannot  tell.  I  don't  know  just  where  I  will  wind  up.  I  may 
go  to  the  jumping-off  place  before  1  get  back.  I  understand 
there  are  good  times  in  San  Francisco." 

"If  you  go  that  far  you  will  never  get  back,"  said  Rock. 

"Well,  I  suppose  we  can  see  you  off,"  said  Phipps. 

"I  have  some  arrangements  to  make  tomorrow,  so  I  think 
we  had  better  part  tonight.  I  appreciate  your  friendship,  but 
I  intend  as  soon  as  I  can  arrange  a  little  business  I  have  to 
get  out."  He  then  went  up  to  the  bar  and  asked  Hooligan  if 
he  owed  him  anything. 

Hooligan  replied :    "No,  except  that  money  for  the  flowers." 

"We  are  all  in  on  that,"  Mort  replied.  "We  will  see  it  is 
paid.  You  never  mind,  Mike,  you'll  need  all  the  money  you 
have." 

This  remark  aroused  Hooligan's  interest,  and  he  inquired 
if  Scully  was  going  on  a  journey. 

"Yes,  I  am  going  away  for  a  while." 

"I  suppose  ye're  all  going  together,"  remarked  Hooligan. 
(He  knew  they  occasionally  went  away  for  a  few  days  at  a 
time  on  business,  but  as  they  invariably  returned  in  a  prosper- 
ous condition,  he  never  made  inquiries  as  to  where  they  were 
going.) 

"No,  I  am  going  away  alone." 

"I  hope  it  won't  be  for  long,"  remarked  Hooligan.  "Well, 
have  one  on  me  before  you  go." 

Scully  took  a  cigar.  "Have  something  with  it,  Mike.  I 
have  some  good  Bourbon  here."     Scully  declined. 


SCULLY  GOES  WEST.  81 

His  friends  drank  Hooligan's  treat. 

Scully  bid  Hooligan  good-bye.  As  soon  as  they  got  outside, 
Scully  shook  hands  with  his  old-time  companions,  who  all  ex- 
pressed their  sorrow  at  his  going. 

"You'll  write  us,  anyhow,  Mike,  when  you  get  settled,"  was 
Mort's  parting  words. 

Scully  made  no  reply. 


Chapter  XL 


SCULLY  GOES  WEST. 


The  morning  after  Scully  had  taken  leave  of  his  friends  he 
rose  early.  After  breakfast  he  sat  down  to  write  a  lettter  to 
the  Rev.  Father  Nolan.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he 
would  drop  him  a  line,  to  explain  his  reason  for  not  calling  on 
him.     He  commenced: 

"Rev.  Father  Nolan,  Dear  Sir: — 

"I  am  about  to  leave  Chicago  for  a  time,  for  how  long  I  do 
not  know.  I  should  have  liked  to  call  upon  you  before  I  left, 
but  the  truth  is  I  haven't  the  courage.  I  am  not  in  a  proper 
state  of  mind  even  to  hear  you  advise  me  as  to  the  matter  that 
I  know  would  be  for  my  good.  This  admission,  I  know  full 
well,  will  cause  you  some  uneasiness.  I  feel,  however,  that 
you  will  forgive  my  abrupt  departure  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
see  no  other  way  to  improve  my  condition  morally  than  to  get 
away  from  associates  none  of  whom  are  worse  than  my- 
self. But  should  I  stay  around  I  might  be  induced  to  change 
my  mind  from  attempting  to  seek  in  new  surroundings  and 
amongst  new  associates  that  peace  of  mind  I  now  sincerely 
long  for.  The  friends  I  am  leaving  behind  I  have  been 
brought  up  with  from  childhood,  and  to  sever  my  connection 
with  them  and  still  remain  in  Chicago  would  be  next  to  impos- 
sible. On  those  grounds  I  hope  you  will  see  the  justification 
of  my  hasty  departure. 

"I  still  believe  in  the  Faith  of  my  fathers ;  my  mother  was  a 


82  SCULLY  GOES  WEST. 

devoted  member  of  your  Church,  and  I  have  not  entirely  for- 
gotten my  early  training.  She  died  when  I  was  young,  my 
father  married  again,  and  from  causes  for  which  I  was  prob- 
ably to  blame  I  left  home  and  became  what  I  am. 

"The  events  of  the  last  few  days  upset  me ;  I  am  restless  and 
I  hope  I  will  be  far  from  Chicago  when  you  receive  this  note. 

"Should  you  see  Mrs.  Great,  as  you  most  likely  will,  con- 
vey to  her  my  sincere  thanks  and  that  of  my  friends  for  her 
kindness  both  in  word  and  deeds.    She  is  a  truly  good  woman. 

"You  no  doubt  will  learn  what  has  been  done  for  the  Mur- 
phy boy,  so  it  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  on  it  here.     Hoping  at 
some  future  day  I  may  be  able  to  meet  you  in  a  different  spirit 
and  under  better  conditions,  I  bid  you  farewell. 
"Yours  very  sincerely, 

"Michael  Scully." 

Taking  a  little  box  from  his  trunk,  he  opened  it  and  took 
out  a  plain  gold  ring  and  a  gold  cross,  which  had  three  small 
diamonds  in  it,  one  in  the  center  and  one  near  the  end  of  each 
of  the  extended  arms.  They  were  heirlooms  which  belonged 
to  his  mother,  and  which  had  come  into  his  possession  at  the 
death  of  his  father.  He  placed  the  ring  to  his  lips  and  kissed 
it.  He  folded  both  ring  and  cross  in  a  piece  of  paper  and 
placed  them  in  his  vest  pocket.  He  examined  the  clothes 
that  remained  in  his  trunk,  and  taking  only  what  would  fill 
his  immediate  wants,  put  those  that  remained  on  the  floor  and 
some  that  hung  on  a  rack  back  into  the  trunk,  locked  it,  and 
fastened  the  key  to  one  of  the  leather  handles  on  the  side. 
He  then  summoned  the  landlady,  settled  wnth  her,  told  of  his 
intention  to  leave,  and  gave  her  instructions  to  give  the  trunk 
to  Henry  Mort  as  soon  as  he  called  for  it,  and  took  his  de- 
parture. 

After  leaving  he  walked  east  on  Van  Buren  street  until  he 
came  to  State,  south  on  State  until  he  reached  the  pawnshop 
of  Israel  Goldberg.  On  entering,  the  pawnbroker  rubbed  his 
hands  together,  smiling,  and  wanted  to  usher  him  into  an 
inner  office. 


SCULLY  GOES  WEST.  83 

"It  is  unnecessary — whatever  business  we  have  to  do  we 
can  transact  here." 

"My  friend  Mike,  nothing  doing?" 

"No,"  said  Mike,  in  a  gruff  tone.  He  had  no  patience  with 
the  old  fence.  "I  have  a  Httle  business  with  you,  but  it's  on 
the  square."  Taking  the  little  paper  package  out  of  his  vest 
pocket  and  laying  them,  with  his  watch  and  a  revolver,  on  the 
counter,  "I  want  to  see  how  much  money  you  will  lend  me  on 
them."  Goldberg  pushed  the  gun  aside.  He  knew  its  value. 
The  watch  he  gave  but  a  casual  glance  to  see  if  it  was  the 
same  he  had  in  his  custody  at  different  times  before,  when 
Mike  and  his  friends  had  been  pressed  for  ready  money.  The 
ring  and  the  cross  he  looked  at  more  minutely.  He  took  a 
little  bottle  of  acid  from  under  the  counter  to  test  the  metal 
that  was  in  them,  which,  from  his  look,  seemed  satisfactory. 
He  then  put  a  glass  to  his  eye  to  get  a  better  look  at  the  dia- 
monds. 

Goldberg  wanted  to  draw  him  into  conversation.  "I  have 
not  seen  you  for  some  time,  Mr.  Scully.  I  hope  you  and  your 
friends  are  not  going  back  on  me.  You  know  I  always  treat 
you  right." 

"Come,  Goldberg,  I  am  anxious  to  get  away.  How  much 
are  you  willing  to  loan  me?     I  am  going  away  for  a  time." 

"Ah!  on  business,  of  course."  This  news  seemed  to 
brighten  the  old  fellow  up.  "Of  course  you  will  see  me  as 
soon  as  you  get  back,  won't  you,  Michael  ?" 

"I  cannot  say  when  I'll  be  back." 

"Veil,  you  know  best,  Mr.  Scully.  I  wish  you  luck — you 
know  I  help  you  boys  when  I  can." 

"Yes,  but  you  take  care  you  have  good  collateral,"  replied 
Scully,  snappishly. 

"Veil,  you  know,  my  dear  Mr.  Scully,  business  is  business, 
and  I  am  under  great  expense  here."  He  never  considered 
the  risk — he  was  immune  from  the  law.  There  was  a  mutual 
interest  between  him  and  the  police,  to  whom  he  frequently 
gave  valuable  information,  but  only  when  it  was  absolutely 
necessary  to  cover  up  his  own  share  of  the  transaction.     He 


84  SCULLY  GOES  WEST. 

then  made  a  virtue  of  necessity,  and,  as  the  cops  put  it,  "Gave 
up  his  guts." 

"I  want  to  know  how  much  money  you  are  going  to  let  me 
have?"  said  Mike  impatiently.  "Remember,  I  am  going  tc 
release  them,  so  you  take  good  care  of  them  till  you  heai 
from  me." 

"Sure,  Michael;  how  much  do  you  vant?" 

"I  want  as  much  as  you  are  willing  to  advance." 

Goldberg  examined  the  cross  again.  "This  is  very  old- 
fashioned,  Michael,  and  you  know  there  is  not  much  demand 
for  those  things  around  here." 

"I  suppose  not.     How  much  are  you  going  to  let  me  have  ?" 

"How  would  twenty-five  dollars  do?" 

"It  won't  do  at  all.     I  want  sixty.     I  have  use  for  it." 

"My,  but  you  must  be  going  a  long  journey.  I  don't  think 
that  you  should  ask  me  to  risk  so  much  money  on  those 
things." 

"You  are  not  risking  anything.  It's  only  that  you  hate  to 
give  up  the  money." 

Just  then  a  couple  of  young  women  came  in.  They  lived 
in  a  house  close  by.  Israel  knew  them  well ;  he  illumined  his 
face  with  his  blandest  smile.  "Good  morning,  ladies;  vat  can 
I  do  for  you?" 

"Come  here,  you  old  stiff,"  said  one  of  them ;  "we  want  to 
talk  to  you,"  as  they  both  walked  to  the  end  of  the  counter. 

"Veil,  vat  can  I  accommodate  you  vit  this  morning?  You're 
looking  veil,  Miss  Montrose."  This  was  addressed  to  the 
other  female. 

"Look  here,"  said  the  one  who  first  spoke,  "we  have  a 
bloke  at  the  house — he  has  been  there  for  a  couple  of  days, 
and  he's  broke." 

"I  wouldn't  be  surprised,"  said  the  Jew,  with  a  grin. 

"Seraphene  has  him." 

"Then  it's  a  cert  he's  broke,"  said  Israel,  laughing.  The 
girl  produced  a  watch.  "Madam  said  you  should  go  the 
limit." 

Goldberg  opened  the  watch,  which  he  saw  at  a  glance  was  a 


SCULLY   GOES   WEST.  85 

very  valuable  one,  an  indication  that  its  owner  was  a  ver>' 
well-to-do  man. 

"Now  you  are  sure,  ladies,  that  .this  is  on  the  square?  You 
know  I  never  do  anything  but  a  legitimate  business." 

"Ah,  go  on — none  of  your  con.  You  think  we're  not  onto 
your  game?" 

"Hurry  up,"  said  the  girl,  impatiently.  "Madam  will  want 
to  know  what's  keeping  us.     The  old  sport  is  a  live  one." 

"Miss  Seraphena  is  a  good  girl — I  always  knew  she  would 
do  well,"  said  the  Jew  admiringly. 

"Come,  old  Shylock,  hand  over  the  dough — we'll  listen  to 
your  patter  when  we  have  a  day  off." 

"Ah,  Miss  Belinda,  you  are  all  business,  and  as  it's  on  the 
Madam's  account  I  vill  let  you  have  fifty  dollars.  Whose 
name  vill  I  put  on  the  ticket?" 

"Any  old  name  you  like,"  replied  Belinda. 

Goldberg  proceeded  to  make  out  a  ticket  in  the  name  of  John 
Smith  for  a  loan  of  sixty  dollars. 

The  article  to  be  redeemed  in  one  month  on  payment  of 
sixty  dollars  and  ten  per  cent  per  month.  He  then  gave  the 
sweet  Belinda  the  ticket  and  fifty  dollars.  The  ticket  he  folded 
up  carefully  before  he  gave  her  it,  telling  her  to  be  sure  and 
not  lose  it. 

The  two  young  ladies  hurried  out,  paying  no  attention  to 
the  ticket.  Israel  chuckled  to  himself  as  they  left,  remarking 
to  Scully,  who  was  chafing  with  impatience,  "Two  very  bright 
girls."     Scully  paid  no  attention. 

"Now,  before  any  more  of  your  patrons  come  in.  T  want 
you  to  get  through  with  me." 

"Vat's  your  hurry,  Mr.  Scully?" 

"I  want  to  get  away."  This  was  said  in  a  tone  that  the  Jew 
could  not  mistake,  so  he  proceeded  to  business. 

Goldberg  protested  that  he  could  not  give  sixty  dollars. 
"But  as  you  are  my  friend,  Michael.  I  vill  let  you  have  fifty 
dollars." 

Scully's  impatience  getting  the  better  of  him,  he  said: 
"Well,  come,  let  me  have  the  money;  but  be  sure  you  take 
good  care  of  them." 


86  SCULLY  GOES   WEST. 

Israel  promised  he  would,  after  making  out  the  ticket  and 
giving  Scully  the  money. 

**I  hope  you  will  have  good  luck  while  you  are  away,  and 
if  you  get  anything  in  my  line  you  will  give  me  the  first 
chance,  von't  you,  Michael?"  Ere  he  had  concluded  his  re- 
quest Scully  was  on  his  way,  going  north  on  State  street. 
When  he  reached  Van  Buren  he  turned  west  to  Clark.  He 
read  the  signs  in  front  of  the  scalpers'  offices  till  he  came  to 
one  which  read,  "Omaha  and  Denver  cheap  today."  He  went 
in  and  inquired  what  was  the  lowest  to  Denver. 

"When  are  you  going?" 

"I'm  not  particular." 

The  scalper  looked  up  at  the  clock  in  his  office.  "It  is  now 
12  o'clock.  If  you  can  leave  by  1,  I  could  let  you  have  a  first- 
class  ticket  for  twenty  dollars." 

"Is  that  the  best  you  can  do?" 

"The  very  lowest."  Scully  produced  the  twenty,  the  scalper 
handed  him  over  the  ticket.  Mike  read  the  dates  on  it,  and, 
believing  that  it  was  all  right,  started  out  for  the  railway  depot ; 
finding  that  he  had  nearly  forty  minutes  to  spare,  he  went  to 
a  lunch  counter,  sat  up  on  a  stool  and  ordered  coffee  and  a 
sandwich.  As  the  waiter  served  his  order  he  told  him  to 
have  three  more  made  up — he  was  going  to  take  them  with 
him.  At  a  drug  store  he  purchased  six  cigars  for  a  quarter, 
and  of  a  newsboy  two  of  the  afternoon  papers.  Arriving  at 
the  depot,  and  on  showing  the  ticket  to  the  man  at  the  gate 
he  passed  through.  Being  early,  he  secured  a  seat  next  to 
the  window,  where  he  hoped  to  get  a  view  of  the  country  as 
the  train  sped  along;  while  waiting  for  the  train  to  start  his 
mind  reverted  to  the  many  friends  he  had  left  behind,  one  in 
particular,  his  friend  Mort,  who  had  been  his  constant  com- 
panion through  life ;  Bert  and  Phipps  he  also  thought  highly 
of.  He  felt  some  anxiety  on  their  behalf ;  as  for  Rock  and  Hart, 
though  he  wished  them  well,  there  were  traits  in  their  char- 
acters to  which  he  could  never  reconcile  himself. 

Little  Tony  Murphy  came  into  his  mind,  and  he  wondered 
wha!t  would  become  of  him.  "Poor  little  fellow,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "he  has  a  hard  road  before  him." 


SCULLY  GOES  WEST.  87 

Scully  had  never  been  a  ladies'  man,  so  had  no  pangs  in 
parting  with  any  of  the  many  young  women  with  whom  he 
had  become  acquainted  during  the  wild  life  he  had  followed. 
He  awoke  from  his  reveries  by  a  lurch  of  the  train  as 
it  moved  away. 

He  took  a  cigar  from  his  pocket  and  lit  it,  and  as  the  train 
puffed  along  he  looked  intently  through  the  windows  at  the 
fleeting  houses.  Soon  the  suburbs  were  reached,  the  clanging 
of  the  bell  on  the  engine  indicating  that  they  were  still  within 
the  city  limits.  At  length  the  country  was  reached,  they  were 
passing  green  fields,  the  houses  began  to  get  fewer,  the  bell 
stopped,  the  train  began  to  go  faster,  as  it  whirled  along  tele- 
graph posts  began  to  fly  by  in  rapid  succession ;  he  leaned  back 
on  the  cushions  of  his  seat,  he  felt  at  peace — a  new  career  was 
before  him.  He  thought  of  the  letter  he  had  sent  to  Father 
Nolan.  What  would  the  good  priest  think  of  it?  His  mind 
wandered  back  to  the  interview  he  had  with  him,  and  his  part- 
ing words,  "God  bless  you."  A  gentle  calm  overcame  him  as 
he  puffed  away  at  his  cigar.  He  felt  he  was  a  new  man,  the 
world  before  him;  at  every  station  where  the  train  stopped 
he  looked  through  the  window  at  those  on  the  platform,  some 
receiving  friends,  others  bidding  them  goodbye.  As  night  set 
in  he  partook  of  some  of  the  lunch  he  had  brought  with  him. 
He  was  fortunate  in  having  a  seat  all  to  himself,  so  about  10 
o'clock  he  folded  his  overcoat  so  as  to  make  a  pillow,  placed 
it  on  the  arm  of  his  seat  next  the  window,  then  gathering  him- 
self up  on  the  seat  in  a  cramped  position  he  was  soon  sound 
asleep.  He  woke  during  the  night;  the  dim  light  in  the  car 
enabled  him  to  observe  many  like  himself  sleeping  the  best 
they  could  in  every  imaginable  position.  He  closed  his  eyes 
again,  and  before  he  awoke  the  sun  shone  brightly  through 
the  windows.  He  got  up  and  took  a  walk  through  the  cars. 
In  some  of  them  women  and  children  were  trying  to  get  a 
little  rest.  Fathers  and  mothers,  with  tTieir  families,  were 
going  to  find  new  homes.  Many  of  the  women  and  their  little 
ones  seemed  as  if  they  were  worn  out,  probably  they  had 
come  from  the  far  East,  maybe  had  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and 
the  long  journey  and  the  inconvenience  they  had  to  put  up 


88  SCULLY   GOES   WEST. 

with,  were  indexed  on  their  palhd,  careworn  countenances. 
Some  of  the  men  sat  upright  on  their  seats,  with  a  child  sleep- 
ing on  their  knees,  the  wife  in  front  with  a  baby  in  her  arms, 
and  other  little  ones  stretched  out  on  seats  that  had  been  va- 
cated by  grown-up  passengers  who  had  taken  refuge  in  other 
cars  so  as  to  enable  the  mothers  to  make  their  off-spring  a 
little  more  comfortable,  by  giving  them  more  space  in  which 
to  lay.  As  the  morning  advanced,  preparations  were  made  to 
serve  frugal  meals.  Fathers  of  families  opened  satchels  and 
produced  what  little  eatables  they  had,  the  wife  dividing  it 
amongst  her  children  in  her  effort  to  satisfy  her  little  brood  as 
best  she  could.  In  most  cases  a  drink  of  water  from  the  tank 
in  the  car  was  all  they  had  to  wash  it  down,  for  in  the  day  cars 
there  is  little  accommodation  for  women.  She  smooths  her 
hair,  which  has  become  disordered  during  the  night,  and  rubs 
her  face  with  a  cloth  she  has  dipped  in  water  that  has  been 
brought  from  the  tank  aforementioned ;  her  toi.et  is  complete 
for  the  day.  Her  children  in  turn  get  a  rub  of  the  same  wet 
cloth.  She  may  have  a  comb  with  which  she  makes  them 
somewhat  presentable,  but  for  herself  she  must  wait  until  they 
arrive  at  their  journey's  end. 

Scully  became  very  much  interested  with  the  sights  he  saw 
on  the  train.  In  one  poor  woman  he  became  specially  inter- 
ested. She  had  six  children  with  her,  ranging  from  a  baby 
in  arms  to  a  boy  about  nine  years  old.  He  was  a  manly  Httle 
fellow,  and  kept  trotting  backward  and  forward  to  the  tank 
containing  the  drinking  water,  with  an  occasional  trip  to  the 
toilet  with  one  of  the  younger  members  of  the  family.  The 
woman  had  got  the  seat  in  front  of  her  turned  so  that  some 
of  her  children  could  face  her,  and  the  six  children  occupied 
the  two  seats  and  the  space  between  them ;  her  husband  sat 
on  a  seat  close  by,  and  was  willing  to  give  such  help  to  her  as 
he  could,  but  the  children  would  invariably  cling  to  the  mother. 
There  being  a  vacant  seat  next  to  the  woman's  husband,  Scully 
sat  next  to  him.  He  was  desirous  of  entering  into  a  conver- 
sation with  some  one. 

"It  is  pretty  tiresome  traveling  a  long  journey  in  a  train." 
said   Scullv. 


SCULLY  GOES  WEST.  89 

"Yes,  sir;  especially  when  you  have  children  with  you.  My 
wife  is  about  tired  out." 

"Have  you  come  far?" 

"Yes;  from  the  old  country.  We  didn't  mind  the  boat  so 
much,  though  the  missus  and  some  of  the  children  were  sick 
for  the  first  couple  of  days,  but  you  see,  on  the  boat  you  have 
a  chance  to  walk  around  and  there  is  a  place  for  the  women 
to  wash  up." 

"How  long  have  you  been  on  the  train?" 

"This  will  be  the  fourth  day,  sir.  We  only  had  a  stop  of 
about  an  hour  in  Chicago,  and  then  we  were  taken  from  one 
station  to  another,  so  you  might  say  the  journey  has  been 
continuous.  My  missus  hasn't  had  her  clothes  off  for  four 
nights,  and  you  see  the  children  are  such  a  drag  on  her." 

"Well,  this  is  a  fine  little  man  you  have  here,"  said  Scully, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head.  "What's  your  name,  my 
little  man?" 

"Patrick  Burns,  sir." 

"And  all  those  little  ones,  I  suppose,  are  your  brothers  and 
sisters?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  I  see  you  are  a  good  help  to  your  mother."  The 
boy  looked  over  at  his  mother,  to  see  if  she  would  acknowledge 
in  advance  his  usefulness  before  he  gave  an  answer.  She 
smiled  her  approval  to  him,  and  nodded  to  the  gentleman  whom 
she  saw  was  taking  an  interest  in  her  son. 

"Yes,  Patrick's  a  good  boy,"  said  his  father ;  "I  don't  know 
how  we  could  have  got  on  without  him." 

"Apples,  oranges,  bananas,  chocolates !"  cried  the  man,  com- 
ing along  with  his  basket  of  fruit  and  sweets. 

"Patrick,  I  am  going  to  buy  you  something,"  said  Scully,  as 
the  man  stood  in  front  of  them.    "What  would  you  like?" 

Patrick  looked  first  at  his  father  and  then  at  his  mother. 

"O,  they  don't  want  anything,  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Patrick's 
parents ;  "they  have  just  had  their  breakfast." 

Patrick  was  silent,  but  looked  longingly  at  the  basket  of 
fruit.    The  other  children  got  interested  immediately,  four  of 


90  SCULLY  GOES  WEST. 

them  getting  on  their  knees  on  the  seat  where  they  could  look 
over  the  situation. 

"Never  mind,"  remarked  Scully,  glancing  at  the  father;  "you 
must  have  something.  What  would  you  like?"  Patrick  again 
looked  over  at  his  mother,  whose  smile  encouraged  him. 

"I  like  them  long  things,  sir;  I  think  they  call  them  bananas." 

"I  suppose  you  never  ate  any  of  them  where  you  come  from, 
Patrick?" 

"No,  sir." 

Scully  gave  the  man  with  the  fruit  fifty  cents,  and  told 
him  to  give  the  children  what  they  wanted.  He  went  around 
to  where  the  mother  sat,  who  superintended  the  distribution 
of  the  fruit,  according  to  the  children's  tastes.  She  thanked 
the  gentleman,  telling  the  children  to  thank  him,  too. 

Mike  felt  that  never  in  his  life  had  he  stood  treat  that  gave 
greater  satisfaction  to  all  concerned;  not  only  did  it  make  the 
children  happy,  but  the  fond  mother,  full  of  appreciation  of 
his  kindness  to  her  little  ones,  looked  gratified  in  a  manner 
that  reminded  him  of  the  saying,  "When  you  take  a  woman's 
children  by  the  hand,  you  take  the  mother  by  the  heart." 

The  journey  to  Denver  was  nearly  over;  a  porter  had  gone 
through  the  cars  announcing  "the  next  stop  is  Denver."  Many, 
who,  like  Scully,  had  passed  most  of  the  time  in  the  smoker, 
had  female  friends  in  other  cars ;  some  had  wives  and  children. 
They  went  to  their  assistance  to  make  preparations  to  leave 
the  train  on  its  arrival.  Young  men  who  were  alone,  cramped 
by  the  long  sitting  during  the  journey,  stood  up  and  stretched 
themselves,  glad  the  journey  was  over. 

In  the  day  cars  there  was  packing  of  grips,  women  were 
getting  their  wraps  together  and  fixing  up  their  children.  All 
was  hurry  and  excitement. 

In  the  Pullman  cars  there  was  no  such  haste,  the  porter  re- 
marking, "Plenty  of  time,  sah,"  as  he  brushed  down  his  pas- 
sengers and  collected  his  tips.  "Yes,  ma'am,  it  will  be  some 
time  before  we  get  into  the  depot."  "Yes,  I'll  take  care  of  your 
baggage ;  thank  you,  ma'am." 

"I  hope  you  slept  well  last  night,  sah,"  was  addressed  to  a 
pompous  old  fellow,  who  had  required  a  lot  of  the  porter's  at- 


SCULLY  GOES   WEST.  91 

tention  during  the  journey,  and  who  had  drunk  considerable 
on  the  way. 

"Didn't  sleep  at  all;  a  young  couple  in  the  berth  above  me 
seemed  quite  restless,  and  would  keep  talking.  People  like 
those  should  be  put  in  a  car  by  themselves.  And  there  was 
that  fellow  opposite,  with  the  most  frightful  cough — it  is  an 
outrage  to  permit  passengers  to  be  disturbed  in  such  a  man- 
ner." 

The  porter  agreed  with  him.  After  he  had  been  brushed 
down  to  his  satisfaction,  he  handed  the  porter  a  quarter.  The 
porter  looked  at  it,  and  then  at  the  pompous  gentleman,  and 
felt  sorry  that  he  had  coincided  with  him  when  he  complained 
of  the  man  with  the  cough. 

"Yes,  you  are  next,  sir."  This  was  addressed  to  a  thin,  pale 
young  man,  who  seemed  as  if  he  could  hardly  stand.  "I  hope 
you  had  a  good  night's  rest,  sir." 

"No,  my  cough  was  very  troublesome.  I  am  afraid  I  an- 
noyed some  of  the  passengers."  The  porter  handled  him  with 
care.  He  looked  fragile ;  too  far  gone,  poor  fellow,  for  the 
climate  of  Denver  to  do  him  any  good.  The  porter  could 
have  read  his  fate.  A  month  or  six  weeks  in  Colorado,  and 
then  an  intense  desire  to  go  home  to  his  friends — linger  for  a 
brief  time  longer,  still  clinging  to  hope,  and  then  to  die. 

He  handed  the  porter  a  dollar  and  thanked  him  for  his 
courteous  treatment  while  on  the  road,  the  principal  of  which 
was  the  placing  of  two  pillows  conveniently  on  which  he  might 
rest  his  weary  head  during  the  day. 

"I  wonder  if  that  porter  is  ever  going  to  reach  here!"  re- 
marked a  young  lady  to  a  young  man  who  had  occupied  the 
same  berth  the  previous  night. 

"He  will  be  here  soon,  my  dear ;  don't  be  impatient,"  was 
her  partner's  response. 

The  porter  had  just  given  the  finishing  touch  to  the  young 
man  with  the  bad  cough,  and  was  in  the  act  of  carrying  his 
dressing-case  to  the  door.  "If  you  wait  for  a  few  seconds  on 
the  platform  I  will  assist  you." 

"Thanks ;  I'll  wait." 

"Now,  Miss ;  sorry  to  keep  you  waiting."    The  young  woman 


92  SCULLY  GOES  WEST. 

scowled.  The  porter  brushed  her  jacket  and  skirt,  then  tackled 
her  male  companion,  remarking,  "Going  to  stay  in  Denver, 
sir?" 

"Yes,  on  a  visit." 

"Lovely  country,  sah."  Just  then  the  train  shot  into  the 
depot. 

An  official  with  a  stentorious  voice  came  through  the  car 
shouting  "DENVER!  DENVER!  all  out  for  DENVER!" 

"Thank  you,  sir;  hope  you  will  have  a  good  time.  I  am 
sure  madam  will  like  it." 

"BAGGAGE!  BAGGAGE!  take  care  of  your  baggage!" 
"Cab,  sir?  Cab,  sir?"  "  'Bus  to  the  Metropolis!"  "This  way, 
madam ;  yes,  this  is  the  'bus.     Get  in,  let  me  help  you." 

"  'Bus  to  all  the  principal  hotels !  Yes,  sir ;  we  stop  at  the 
Continental." 

The  Pullman  porter  had  rushed  to  the  little  depository  in 
which  he  kept  his  street  coat  and  hat,  and  after  exchanging 
them  for  his  uniform,  joined  the.  consumptive,  who  was  wait- 
ing for  him  on  the  platform. 

"Have  you  any  particular  place  to  go?"  inquired  the  porter. 

The  invalid  told  him,  "No ;  I  am  a  stranger  here." 

"Well,  come  along  with  me." 

"Here,  porter,"  shouted  the  pompous  man  who  had  com- 
plained of  losing  his  night's  rest ;  "help  me  with  this  baggage !" 
The  porter  remarked  to  the  invalid,  "He's  an  Englishman." 

"I  can't  sir;  I  am  engaged,"  and  grasping  the  two  cases 
belonging  to  the  sick  man,  he  led  the  way. 

The  pompous  gentleman  made  some  assertions  about  the 
"Blawsted  country." 

"Had  I  not  better  take  a  cab?"  inquired  the  invaHd. 

"No,  it's  only  a  short  distance  to  where  we  are  going;  you 
need  not  hurry."  Just  then  a  fit  of  coughing  assailed  the  lung- 
er (as  they  are  known  out  West). 

The  porter  laid  down  the  grips  and  waited  patiently  till  his 
fit  of  cous^hing  had  ceased. 

Mike  Scully,  who  had  stood  on  the  platform  observing  the 
commotion,  looked  over  in  the  direction  of  the  invalid  and 
said  to  himself,  "That  poor  fellow  isn't  long  for  this  world." 


TONY   GETS   A    NEW    OUTFIT.  93 

Mike  was  interested  in  observing  the  different  groups,  whole 
famiHes — men  and  wives  and  children,  each  gathered  around  a 
pile  of  cases,  baskets,  bundles,  and  trunks. 

Mothers,  clasping  babies  in  their  arms  while  trying  to  ap- 
pease the  complaints  of  others,  but  a  year  or  two  older ;  sturdy 
young  boys  and  girls  sitting  on  bundles  or  trunks  waiting  for 
the  expressman  that  their  father  had  engaged  to  come  and 
take  them  and  their  goods  away. 

Scully  noticed  many  men  who  seemed  single,  like  himself, 
poorly  dressed  and,  from  outside  appearance,  having  little  of 
this  world's  goods,  all,  with  the  exception  of  the  "lungers," 
of  which  there  were  a  few,  he  surmised  were  bent  on  pushing 
their  fortune  in  the  West. 

Mike  felt  his  spirits  rising,  as  he  contemplated  the  miscella- 
neous crowd.  He  became  elated  and,  communing  with  him- 
self, thought  of  those  people  with  a  retinue  of  children,  and 
others  in  poor  health,  hoped  to  win  in  the  battle  of  life,  "Why 
should  I  fear?  Young,  strong,  and  healthy,  with  the  world 
before  me."    He  picked  up  his  grip  and  left  the  depot. 


Chapter  XH. 


TONY   GETS   A    NEW   OUTFIT. 


Henry  Mort  reported  at  Mrs.  O'Brien's  the  next  morning 
as  agreed.  The  lady  of  the  house  asked  him  to  be  seated,  and 
she  would  get  ready  to  go  with  him. 

"How  is  Tony  this  morning?"  he  inquired. 

"He  is  a  little  better ;  he  ate  some  breakfast.  Patsy  and 
the  other  children  are  amusing  him  in  the  kitchen.  You  know. 
■Mr.  Mort,  children  soon  forget  their  troubles ;  the  poor  boy 
doesn't  know  what  he  has  lost,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  she 
said  in  an  undertone,  "for  the  last  couple  of  years  the  young- 
ster was  neglected — he  had  a  hard  time  enough  of  it.  His 
father  and  mother  were  unfortunate;  all  through  the  cursed 
drink."     This  was  said  in  a  whisper  for  fear  the  children  in 


94  TONV   GETS   A    NEW    OUTFIT. 

the  rear  room  would  hear  her.    "But  I  must  go  and  get  ready." 

Mrs.  O'Brien  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  bringing  Tony 
with  her,  followed  by  the  rest  of  her  retinue. 

Patsy  wanted  to  know  if  he  couldn't  go. 

"No,  you  can't!"  exclaimed  his  mother;  "who  would  stay 
at  home  and  mind  the  house?" 

"I'll  go  and  see  if  father's  at  the  corner;  let  him  come  home 
and  mind  the  house." 

"If  he  is,  let  him  stay  there;  bad  hick  to  him!  He  is  no 
use  wherever  he  is!  I  wish  the  devil  would  take  him  and 
Hooligan  together."  Those  remarks  to  the  son  in  reference 
to  his  sire  might  be  considered  as  being  far  .from  appropriate, 
Mrs.  O'Brien  herself  having  some  doubt  in  her  own  mind  as 
to  their  correctness,  made  a  half  apology  to  Mort  by  saying, 
"I  have  no  patience  with  him." 

"You  stay  home  and  mind  the  children ;  perhaps  I'll  bring 
you  something."  This  was  said  to  Patsy  by  way  of  a  com- 
promise. 

As  soon  as  the  three  got  seated  in  the  street  car  to  take  them 
down  town,  Mort  informed  Mrs.  O'Brien  that  he  had  twenty- 
nine  dollars  and  forty-five  cents. 

"Sure,  that's  a  great  dale  more  than  we'll  need,"  was  her 
reply. 

Arriving  at  the  store,  a  large  institution  that  was  named 
after  a  leading  city  in  the  East,  Mrs.  O'Brien  told  Mort,  "I 
always  buy  the  children's  clothes  here.  I  find  them  very  rea- 
sonable." 

Reaching  the  elevator,  she  told  the  operator  to  let  them  off 
at  the  boys'  clothing.  When  they  reached  the  floor  the  man 
called  off,  "Boys'  clothing,  shoes,  and  caps,"  and  a  string  of 
other  articles. 

Mrs.  O'Brien,  Mort,  and  Tony  filed  out,  and  as  they  ap- 
proached the  tables  on  which  boys'  clothing  was  stacked,  a  man 
came  toward  them  who  had  a  tape-line  around  his  neck. 
"What  can  I  do  for  you,  madam?"  was  his  inquiry. 

"We  want  to  see  some  boys'  clothing,"  was  Mrs.  O'Brien's 
response. 

The  salesman  looked  at  Tony,  whose  jacket  was  out  at  the 


TONY    GETS   A    NEW    OUTFIT.  95 

elbows,  his  pants  much  worn  at  the  knees,  and  which  had  a 
capacious  patch  on  the  seat  very  unUke  in  color  or  texture  to 
the  original  garment.  "I  suppose  you  want  to  buy  him  a 
suit?" 

"Yes,  a  good  strong  suit,  suitable  for  the  winter." 

"Yes,  ma'am."  He  sized  the  boy  up  by  looking  at  him,  and 
going  to  where  a  pile  lay,  returned  bringing  a  jacket,  vest  and 
pair  of  knee  pants. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  condemned  them  on  sight.  "They  are  a  great 
deal  too  light  in  color;  sure,  they'd  be  dirty  in  no  time,"  look- 
ing up  at  Mort ;  "besides,  they're  too  thin.  I  want  something 
for  the  winter." 

"We  can  suit  you;  just  let  him  try  this  vest  and  coat  on 
to  see  his  size."  Tony  unbuttoned  his  coat  and  vest,  and 
tried  them  on.  The  salesman  looked  approvingly.  "I  think 
they  are  about  right  as  to  size,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  O'Brien  turned  Tony  around,  scanned  him  all  over, 
and  said  they  were  too  small,  that  "he  was  growing,  and 
v.'ould  be  out  of  them  in  no  time." 

The  salesman  placed  the  pants  in  front  of  Tony,  and  asked 
her  what  she  thought  of  those  for  size. 

"I  would  like  them  a  little  bigger."  Tony  took  off  the  jacket 
and  vest,  handed  them  to  the  man,  who  remarked  in  going 
away,  "I  know  just  what  you  want.  Will  you  go  as  high  as 
seven  ninety-eight  ?  We  have  some  elegant  suits  at  that  price. 
We  have  been  selling  them  at  ten  dollars,  but  have  marked 
them  down." 

"Show  them  to  us,"  was  Mrs.  O'Brien's  instructions. 

The  salesman  retired,  taking  the  first  suit  with  him,  and 
returning  with  one  much  darker  and  of  heavier  material.  Tony 
tried  them  on.  Mort  thought  they  were  a  little  too  big  for 
him. 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  Mrs.  O'Brien :  "he'll  soon  grow  up  to 
them." 

The  salesman  volunteered  the  assertion  that  they  were  all 
wool — a  whopper — but  it  went. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  spun  Tony  around  a  time  or  two,  so  as  to 
make  a  complete  inspection :  the  pants  were  held  up  in  front 


96  TONY    GETS    A    NEW   OUTFIT. 

of  him,  as  before,  and  there  being  no  doubt  as  to  their  being 
big  enough,  his  foster  mother  looked  at.Mort  for  his  approval. 

He  ''guessed  they  were  all  right." 

"You'll  give  a  pair  of  galluses  with  those  pants?"  she  asked 
of  the  man. 

He  looked  at  her,  as  much  as  to  say,  "We  can  not  afford  it," 
but  ultimately  consented.  "How  would  you  like  to  buy  an 
overcoat  for  him?  We  have  a  special  line;  some  that  were 
bought  at  a  bankrupt  sale.    They  are  giving  them  away." 

"By  gorra,  I'll  take  two  at  that  price,  Mr.  Man." 

"Well,  it's  next  thing  to  it,"  the  man  replied,  in  answer  to 
Mrs.  O'Brien's  proposition. 

"Let  us  see  them,"  said  Mort. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  had  no  notion  of  buying  Tony  an  overcoat  in 
this  establishment.  There  was  a  woman  who  kept  a  second- 
hand store  and  junk  shop  on  Blue  Island  avenue,  where  boys' 
overcoats  suitable  to  the  trade  of  the  neighborhood  were  sold 
for  seventy-five  cents — better  ones  for  a  dollar. 

The  man  brought  an  overcoat  at  least  two  sizes  too  big. 
He  was  a  man  of  experience,  so  knew  it  was  not  the  boy  but 
the  woman  he  had  to  fit.  He  held  it  across  his  arm,  to  show 
the  style  and  the  smoothness  of  the  fabric  it  was  made  of. 
He  called  the  lady's  attention  to  the  velvet  collar. 

Tony  had  never  had  an  overcoat  in  his  life,  except  the  kind 
the  woman  sold  on  the  avenue.  He  looked  longingly  at  the 
one  with  the  velvet  collar  the  man  was  showing,  but  it  was 
beyond  his  expectations. 

"How  much  do  you  ask  for  that?"  inquired  Mrs.  O'Brien. 

"We  are  selling  them  for  six  seventy-three ;  and  you  can 
not  duplicate  it  in  Chicago  for  twice  the  money." 

"Oh,  sure ;  they  all  say  that,"  retorted  Mrs.  O'Brien. 

"Try  it  on,  Tony,"  said  Mort,  seeing  the  boy's  admiration 
for  it.  If  there  was  anything  in  the  world  he  wanted  at  that 
moment,  it  was  that  very  overcoat. 

"I  am  afraid  it's  somewhat  loose  for  you.  isn't  it.  Tony?" 
Tony  was  afraid  to  criticise  it. 

"He  would  only  have  to  wear  it  on  Sundays,  anyway,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  O'Brien.    "T  know  where  I  can  get  him  one  for 


TONY   GETS   A    NEW   OUTFIT.  97 

every  day  wear.  It  is  a  great  deal  too  good  for  him  at  present, 
but  if  he  gets  it,  I  must  see  that  he  gets  one  for  the  rough 
usage." 

Tony  saw  that  his  prospects  were  brightening. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  Tony?"  Mort  asked  him;  "would 
you  like  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  Mrs.  O'Brien;  I  think  you'd  better  take  it  for  him." 

Tony  got  the  coat.  The  cap  department  was  visited  and  a 
cap  purchased — one  that  had  laps  that  he  could  pull  down  over 
his  ears.  His  past  experience  had  taught  him  the  value  of 
those  appliances.  In  turn  he  got  shirts  and  stockings  and  a 
muffler,  one  he  could  wrap  a  couple  of  times  around  his  neck 
and  then  tie  in  the  front,  with  some  to  spare;  a  good  pair  of 
warm  gloves,  for  which  Mrs.  O'Brien  went  as  high  as  fifteen 
cents,  buying  Patrick  a  pair  at  the  same  time,  as  she  had  prom- 
ised to  bring  him  something  on  her  leaving  home. 

They  then  went  to  the  shoe  department.  Here  Mort  got  a 
seat,  which  he  availed  himself  of. 

"Take  your  shoe  off,"  was  Mrs.  O'Brien's  instruction  to 
Tony.  At  the  sight  of  his  stocking,  she  opened  one  of  the 
parcels  they  had,  and  taking  out  a  pair  of  stockings,  put  her 
hand  in  one  of  them,  and  catching  it  by  the  heel,  turned  it 
partly  inside  out,  so  that  it  was  convenient  for  him  to  put  his 
foot  in,  then  pulling  the  leg  part  over  his  heel,  had  it  properly 
adjusted. 

The  salesman  stood  at  attention. 

"I  want  a  pair  of  boots  for  this  boy." 

"Yes,  ma'am ;  button  or  lace  ?"  he  remarked,  as  he  placed 
Tony's  foot  on  his  sliding  rule,  squeezing  down  his  toes,  to  get 
the  full  length  of  his  foot. 

"Neither;  I  want  a  pair  of  good  top  boots  for  him — some- 
thing that  will  keep  out  the  snow." 

The  salesman  went  and  brought  two  pair  of  boots,  the  kind 
some  of  our  readers  may  remember.  They  had  a  big  band 
of  red  leather  at  their  top,  with  a  lone  star  in  the  front,  and 
were  armored  at  the  toes  with  copper  tips. 


98  TONY   GETS   A    NEW   OUTFIT. 

(We  say,  some  of  our  readers  may  remember  them.  We 
will  qualify  that  statement  by  saying  that  many  of  our  readers 
will  never  forget  them — how  often  has  young  hopeful  come 
home  at  night,  after  tramping  through  the  snow  all  day,  re- 
gardless of  its  condition,  whether  it  was  sloppy  like  sludge 
or  like  the  beautiful  snow  poets  write  about,  and  when  bed- 
time arrived  the  fond  mother,  looking  over  at  her  heart's  de- 
light, told  Johnnie  to  take  his  boots  off,  it  was  time  for  bed, 
without  at  the  moment  thinking  of  the  labor  such  a  command 
entailed.  How,  after  Johnny  had  made  a  feeble  effort  to  pull 
them  off,  his  mother  had  appealed  to  his  elder  brother  to  help 
him,  and  perhaps  his  sister,  if  he  had  one,  who  looked  dag- 
gers at  him,  and  gave  the  job  up.  His  mother,  to  keep  peace 
in  the  family,  would  come  to  the  rescue  and,  after  tugging 
with  all  her  might,  would  begin  to  wonder  whether  Johnny's 
leg  or  the  boot  would  give  way  first,  and  at  length,  when  the 
boot  gave  way,  how  she  flung  them,  damp  and  sodden,  into  a 
corner,  exclaiming,  "Drat  that  boy;"  sat  down  on  her  chair 
breathless,  to  recuperate  before  she  raced  him  to  bed,  warning 
him  what  she  would  do  to  him  if  he  ever  made  his  boots  in 
such  a  state  again.  Such  are  some  of  the  memories  the  boy's 
top  boots  with  the  red  trimmings,  the  lone  star,  and  the  copper 
tips,  should  awaken  in  the  minds  of  many  a  fond  parent,  who 
remembers  past  experiences  when  their  boys  were  young.) 

Tony,  after  placing  his  fingers  in  the  straps,  put  his  toes 
into  one  of  the  boots  and  began  to  tug  with  all  his  might,  but 
in  vain.  The  shoe  man  knelt  down,  placing  his  hand  on  the 
heel,  and  began  to  push.  Mrs.  O'Brien  got  hold  of  one  of  the 
straps  and  began  to  pull ;  the  shoe  man  persisted  in  saying 
they  were  quite  large  enough,  if  he  could  get  them  on.  Tony 
made  an  extra  effort,  with  the  assistance  of  the  shoe  man,  who 
pushed  vigorously  on  the  heel.  Mrs.  O'Brien  began  to  sweat 
with  her  exertion,  hanging  on  to  one  of  the  straps,  which,  as 
something  had  to  give  way,  broke.  The  boots,  it  was  decided, 
were  too  small. 

"We'll  try  on  another  pair,"  suggested  the  man;  "he  seems 
to  have  a  very  high  instep."  The  facts  were  that  Tony  had 
run  barefoot  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  so  that  the  width  at 


TONY   GETS   A    NEW   OUTFIT.  99 

the  toes  was  as  nature  intended  them — fully  developed,  which 
accounted  for  the  boots  being  hard  to  pull  on. 

"We  will  try  a  size  larger."  The  salesman  brought  the 
boots;  they  slipped  on  easily.  Mrs.  O'Brien  protested  that 
they  were  too  big,  that  they  would  slump  at  the  heels,  and  wear 
out  his  stockings,  a  consideration  not  to  be  overlooked.  The 
man  brought  a  number  of  pairs,  which  were  tried  on  with  the 
same  want  of  success. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  remarked  he  had  a  wide  foot.  "What  he 
wants  is  more  width."  The  salesman  went  away ;  and,  after 
a  time  brought  a  pair,  with  the  remark,  'T  think  those  will  fit 
him."  The  facts  were,  he  had  put  them  on  a  stretcher  and  had 
screwed  them  up  until  the  pegs  began  to  grin  in  them.  He 
had  with  him  a  pair  of  hooks  with  handles  across.  "Now,  my 
little  man,  try  those,"  as  he  shook  a  quantity  of  white  pow- 
der into  them,  adjusted  the  hooks  into  the  straps,  and  placed 
them  in  Tony's  hands.  Tony  put  his  foot  into  the  leg  of  the 
boot,  tugged  with  all  his  might,  and  the  foot  shot  into  the 
boot,  to  the  great  relief  of  all  concerned. 

"Stamp  your  foot,"  said  Mrs.  O'Brien.  Tony  did  as  told. 
"Is  that  all  right?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Then  put  the  other  one  on.  Now,  are  you  sure  they're  big 
enough  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"How  much?" 

"One  thirty-five, — those  boots  were " 

"Oh,  never  mind  what  they  were ;  here's  your  money  He's 
going  to  keep  them  on." 

Tony's  old  shoes  were  returned  to  him,  wrapped  up,  as 
soon  as  the  salesman  had  shown  them  to  the  checker.  This 
completing  their  purchases,  they  left  the  store.  Reaching  the 
sidewalk,  Mort  gave  Mrs.  O'Brien  the  balance  of  the  money 
he  held  as  trustee,  bidding  her  and  Tony  good-bye,  as  he  had 
a  call  to  make  before  he  went  home. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  hunt  up  Mike  Scully  and  have 
a  heart-to-heart  talk  with  him  about  his  going  away. 

"We  have  been  boys  together,"  he  said  to  himself:  "yes, 


100  TONY   GETS   A    NEW   OUTFIT. 

children,'"  and  he  felt  that  on  this  account  he  had  a  claim  on 
Mike's  confidence.  "At  least,  he  might  have  let  me  know 
where  he  is  going,  if  he  wasn't  willing  to  tell  me  the  reason. 
I  can't  understand  it;  we  have  been  companions  through  life, 
never  quarreled,  at  least  since  we  were  kids ;  we  went  to  school 
together;  played  truant  together,  and  ran  away  from  home 
together.  I  can't  understand  him.  Perhaps  he  is  getting  nutty; 
if  that's  so,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "the  more  the  reason  I 
must  see  him." 

On  reaching  the  house  where  Scully  roomed  he  walked  up- 
stairs, it  being  over  a  store.  Going  along  the  passage  in  the 
direction  of  Mike's  room  he  met  the  landlady  with  a  broom  in 
her  hand.     She  had  been  sweeping  up. 

"Good  morning,  ma'am." 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Mort." 

"Is  Mike  in  his  room?" 

"No,  bless  you;  he  left  early  this  morning,  taking  his  satchel 
with  him.  He  gave  up  his  room,  saying  he  would  not  be  back 
for  some  time." 

"Did  he  say  where  he  was  going?" 

"Not  a  word.  I  asked  him  where  we  would  send  his  mail; 
he  told  me  to  never  mind." 

"That's  strange,"  said  Mort,  now  completely  upset;  "I  beg^in 
to  believe  there  is  something  wrong  with  the  fellow,"  he 
thought  to  himself. 

"He  left  a  message  for  you,  though." 

"Is  that  so?"  Mort's  face  brightened.  He  thought  perhaps 
that  would  explain  everything. 

"His  trunk  is  in  his  room.  I  was  to  give  it  to  you."  During 
the  talk  the  lady  of  the  house  had  been  walking  towards  the 
room  formerly  occupied  by  Scully.  She  put  the  key  in  the 
door,  unlocked  it,  and  pushed  it  open,  pointing  to  the  trunk  in 
a  corner.    "You  see,  there  is  a  note  fastened  on  the  handle." 

The  woman  left  him,  to  go  on  with  her  work.  He  loosened 
the  scrap  of  paper  and  the  key  from  the  handle,  went  to  the 
window  and  read,  "This  trunk  is  the  property  of  Henry  Mort ; 
please  deliver  it  to  him  on  application." 

"This  leaves  things  worse  than  they  were,"  he  thought ;  "he 


A  BUSINESS  MEETING.  101 

is  surely  gone  for  good;  if  he  wasn't,  he  would  have  left  me 
some  instructions  as  to  what  I  should  do  with  those  things." 
A  thought  suddenly  struck  him — "Perhaps  I  will  find  some- 
thing in  the  trunk."  He  opened  it.  It  was  full  of  clothes, 
some  of  which  were  packed  in  very  carelessly,  as  if  whoever 
had  packed  them  was  in  a  hurry.  He  began  to  take  the  articles 
out  one  by  one,  but  not  a  scrap  of  paper  that  would  give 
him  the  clew  he  sought  was  found.  When  nearly  everything 
was  out  he  spied  on  the  bottom,  right  in  one  of  the  corners,  a 
little  book.  He  took  it  out  and  found  it  w^as  a  prayer-book. 
He  looked  on  the  first  page  and  saw  written  the  name  of 
Anastasia  Scully.  Mort  looked  at  it  reverently  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. Well  he  remembered  who  it  was  that  owned  it.  He 
knew  Mike  Scully's  mother  intimately.  The  book  showed 
much  usage.  Mort  knew  that  Mike,  careless  as  he  was,  cherished 
this  little  volume,  and  would  never  have  left  it  behind,  if  he  had 
not  overlooked  it  in  his  haste  of  going  away,  or  perhaps,  it  had 
laid  so  long  in  the  bottom  of  his  trunk  that  he  had  totally  for- 
gotten it.  Mort  placed  it  carefully  in  his  inside  pocket.  "Some 
day  I  may  see  him,  and  I  feel  he  will  be- pleased  to  know  I  have 
kept  it  safe  for  him."  Further  search  for  what  he  sought  being 
useless,  he  put  the  clothes  back  in  the  trunk,  locked  it,  and 
meeting  the  landlady  on  his  way  out,  told  her  that  he  would 
send  for  the  trunk,  and  bade  her  good-day. 


Chapter  XHI. 


A  BUSINESS    MEETING. 


The  night  of  the  day  on  which  Scully  had  left,  Mort  in- 
formed the  boys  of  his  going  to  where  Scully  had  roomed, 
and  the  result  of  his  investigation. 

"If  he  has  left  his  trunk,  he'll  soon  be  back,"  remarked 
Phipps. 

"No,"  replied  Mort ;  "he  told  the  woman  to  give  it  to  me 
when   I   called." 


102  A  BUSINESS  MEETING. 

"That  looks  bad,"  said  Bert;  "it  seems  as  if  he  is  gone  for 
good." 

Hooligan,  who  had  heard  the  latter  part  of  the  story,  chimed 
in,  "No  fear,  he  will  soon  be  back ;  he  has  been  a  little  cranky 
lately ;  he'll  write  me  for  some  dough,  or  maybe,  a  pass,  when 
he  gets  cooled  off." 

"That's  about  the  last  thing  he  will  think  about.  Hooligan, 
is  writing  you  for  a  pass  or  for  any  money,  either,"  replied 
Bert. 

"I  guess  he  would  beat  his  way  back,  first,"  remarked  Hart. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  retorted  Hooligan. 

"Well,  he  is  gone,  anyway ;  and  as  he  left  the  trunk  to  me, 
I  suppose,  for  the  use  of  any  of  us  fellows  that  can  use  any 
of  the  things  in  it,  I  propose  that  you,  Hart  and  Rock,  go 
over  for  it  some  day,  take  it  to  your  room,  as  you  live  to- 
gether, and  take  what  you  want  out  of  it.  We  cannot' leave 
it  there,  as  the  woman  will  \yant  it  out  of  her  way."  Bert 
and  Phipps  offering  no  objection  to  this  proposition;  it  was 
agreed  upon. 

The  old  topers  who  were  present,  and  who  had  become 
acquainted  with  the  fact  of  Mike's  departure,  expressed  their 
sorrow  at  his  leaving.  O'Brien  voiced  the  sentiment  by  say- 
ing, "We'll  all  miss  him." 

Hooligan  growled  out  that,  "The  least  he  might  have  done 
was  to  let  me  know  why  he  was  going.  I  was  willing  to 
use  my  influence  with  the  alderman  for  him." 

Rock  grinned,  and  remarked  that  "He  cared  a  hell  of  a  lot 
for  the  alderman." 

"I  am  somewhat  disappointed  at  Mike  going  away  without 
letting  us  know  where  he  was  going,  so  that  we  could  write  to 
him.  I  have  noticed  that  since  the  night  of  the  fire  he  has 
been  somewhat  despondent — a  change  seems  to  have  come 
over  him  all  at  once ;  but  as  he  is  gone,  we  all  wish  him  well, 
anyway,  and  there's  no  use  talking  about  it,"  said  Mort.  "Give 
us  a  drink,  Hooligan." 

Dempsey  remarked,  when  he  had  his  glass  in  his  hand,  "Well, 
here's  wishing  him  luck,  anyway ;  wherever  he  goes ;  he  was 
about  the  whitest  man  that  ever  came  down  the  black  road." 


A  BUSINESS  MEETING.  103 

"No  better,"  chimed  in  O'Brien;  "and  wherever  he  goes  he'll 
make  friends." 

"Come,  and  let  us  sit  down,"  said  Mort.  The  five  young 
men  went  over  to  the  table.  There  being  but  four  chairs, 
Rock  went  behind  the  bar  and  brought  an  empty  beer  case, 
which  he  sat  upon.  After  they  had  been  seated  a  few  moments 
Bert  broke  the  silence  by  remarking,  "Well,  boys,  it  looks  as 
if  we're  all  up  against  it." 

Phipps  said  he  was  about  strapped.  "The  board's  all  right 
for  a  time,  but  I  owe  the  woman  of  the  house  considerable — 
she's  all  right,  anyway,  she  knows  I'll  pay  her  when  I  get  it." 

"If  it  wasn't  for  the  dollar  or  two  that  I  get  from  Hooligan 
for  helping  him  out,"  whispered  Rock;  "and  you  know  he's 
as  mean  as  muck,  I  wouldn't  eat." 

Hart  said  he  was  completely  stranded,  and  that  case  of  his 
pending — "I  have  to  be  very  careful." 

"You're  somewhat  of  a  lady's  man,"  said  Mort,  jokingly. 
"I  suppose  that  little  judy  you  pal  in  with  stands  to  you  some- 
times?" 

"Yes,  when  she  has  it,"  replied  Hart;  "but  she  has  pretty 
hard  scraping  for  herself.  I  tell  you  what  we  ought  to  do," 
said  Hart,  continuing;  "let  us  get  up  a  dance.  We  would 
make  a  little  money,  and  it  would  prove  as  a  stall,  anyhow." 

"Not  a  bad  idea,"  said  Bert,  looking  approvingly  at  Hart. 

"Besides,"  suggested  Phipps,  "there  will  be  some  politics 
after  the  first  of  the  year,  and  we'd  be  able  to  tap  some  of  the 
candidates." 

"I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  we  would  make  a  hundred  bones 
apiece,"  said  Rock;  "and  if  I  ever  get  a  hundred  together  at 
one  time,  I  know  what  I'll  do  with  it." 

"You'll  go  loony,"  was  Hart's  comment. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  Mort?"  asked  Hart,  looking  at 
him.. 

"It  would  be  all  right  if  the  police  department  would  stand 
for  it." 

"Oh,  never  mind ;  the  alderman  will  take  care  of  that  end 
of  it.     We'll  let  him  lead  the  grand  march  as  his  share  of 


104  A  BUSINESS  MEETING. 

the  glory;  besides,  if  it  is  a  success,  look  at  the  boost  it  will 
give  him." 

"Hart,  you  have  some  practical  ideas,  after  all,"  replied 
Bert.    "I  agree  with  you,  Httle  Tommy  can  fix  the  police." 

So  it  was  agreed  that  they  would  get  up  a  dance. 

"To  get  it  up  right,"  said  Bert,  "would  take  some  time,  no 
less  than  six  weeks,  in  my  opinion." 

"Well,  how  would  the  last  Saturday  in  January  do?"  sug- 
gested Phipps. 

"A  good  date,"  said  Hart;  so  it  was  agreed. 

"Now,  there  is  one  thing  you  fellows  overlooked,"  remarked 
Mort;  "there  will  be  some  preliminary  expenses;  there  will 
have  to  be  some  printing,  a  deposit  on  the  hall,  and  other  ex- 
penses may  crop  up." 

"Don't  let  that  bother  you,  Mort ;  we'll  make  Hooligan  go 
good  for  those  things,  and  probably  have  him  advance  a  little 
cash." 

"It  you  do,  Hart,"  said  Mort,  in  reply  to  the  last  speaker; 
"he'll  want  to  stand  in." 

"Stend  in  nothing!"  said  Phipps.  "He  will  get  a  share  of 
the  profits  over  the  bar,  if  the  dance  is  a  success — that's  enough 
for  him.  Give  him  the  idea  that  we're  going  to  boost  the 
alderman." 

"Call  him  over,  Mort,"  said  Bert;  "we'll  sound  him.  I've 
got  the  price  of  a  drink;  you  stall  him  when  he  comes." 

"Let  us  tell  him  we  want  him  to  act  as  treasurer,"  suggested 
Mort ;  "what  do  you  say  ?" 

"If  you  do,  you  will  have  to  keep  on  eye  on  him,"  said  Rock. 

"Well,  we'll  put  that  up  to  Phipps.  We'll  make  him  secre- 
tary, his  special  function  being  to  keep  tab  on  Hooligan."  Rock 
thought  that  was  a  good  joke,  so  grinned  his  approval. 

"Hooligan!"  shouted  Mort;  "come  and  take  this  order!" 
Hooligan  responded  with  alacrity;  the  order  was  given,  Mort 
telling  Hooligan  to  bring  his  own.  "There's  something'  we 
want  to  have  your  opinion  on." 

"That's  the  way  to  go  at  him,"  whispered  Bert;  "ask  his 
opinion;  you'll  inflate  him." 

Hooligan  brought  the  drinks.     Phipps  vacated  his  chair  so 


A  BUSINESS  MEETING.  105 

they  would  get  him  sitting.  Just  at  this  moment  an  old 
woman  with  a  shawl  round  her  head  came  in  with  a  can  for 
a  nickel's  worth  of  beer.  Hooligan  looked  as  if  he  was  going 
to  serve  her. 

"Rock,  you  give  that  lady  the  beer;  and  see  you  give  her 
good  measure,"  ordered  Mort,  laughing.  Rock  went  and 
served  her — he  stayed  behind  the  bar  so  as  to  attend  to  any 
stray  customers. 

"What  we  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about,  Hooligan,  was  that 
things  have  been  dead  around  here  for  some  time,  and  we 
thought  we  would  try  to  do  something  to  liven  affairs  up." 

"It's  about  time  you  did,"  said  Hooligan,  getting  interested. 

"Well,"  said  Mort,  continuing,  "we  thought  before  we  start- 
ed we  had  better  have  your  advice.  Of  course,  if  you  think 
it  won't  go,  why,  that's  the  end  of  it."  He  winked  at  Bert 
as  he  said  this,  Bert  being  at  the  opposite  side  of  him  from 
Hooligan.  Hooligan  looked  wise,  and  asked  Mort  what  he 
suggested.  "Well,  we  were  thinking  of  getting  up  a  dance. 
Do  you  think  we  would  make  expenses?" 

"Expenses,"  said  Hooligan;  "expenses;  yes;  and  if  it  was 
worked  right,  make  a  few  hundred  dollars." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  said  Mort,  assuming  an  interest.  "Of 
course,  we  would  have  to  run  it  respectable." 

"You  get  the  dough,"  said  Hooligan  emphatically;  "that's 
what  counts.  I'm  afraid,  Mort.  that  you'll  be  a  reformer 
next." 

"Well,  you  know  best,  Hooligan,"  replied  Mort.  It  took 
Bert,  Hart  and  Phipps  all  their  time  to  keep  straight  faces, 
while  Mort  was  stringing  Hooligan  out. 

"Another  good  thing  about  it,"  continued  I\Iort ;  "the  alder- 
man runs  this  spring,  and  if  we  can  only  make  a  success  of 
it,  you  see  the  boost  it  will  give  him.  ^^'e"^  rely  upon  you 
to  get  him  to  lead  the  grand  march." 

"I  can  ask  him." 

"I  don't  think  he  would  refuse  you,"  remarked  Bert. 

"Oh,  no.  he  won't  refuse  Hooligan ;  he  couldn't  afford  to," 
chimed  in  Phipps. 


106  A  BUSINESS  MEETING. 

"Is  Rock  in  on  this?"  inquired  Hooligan,  in  a  whisper. 

"Sure,"  said  Mort. 

"Well,  I  was  thinking  five  of  us  would  be  enough,"  re- 
marked Hooligan,  showing  some  disapproval. 

"Oh,  we  can't  freeze  Rock  out,"  said  Mort;  "he  is  one  of  us, 
and  the  poor  sucker's  broke.  We  are  going  to  ask  you  to  act 
as  treasurer." 

Hooligan  studied  a  moment  whether  he  would  take  the  posi- 
tion or  not. 

"Of  course,  we'll  do  all  the  work,"  added  Bert;  "all  you'll 
have  to  do  is  to  handle  the  money." 

"That's  all  right;  you  know  I  am  a  very  busy  man,  and 
could  not  give  much  of  my  time  to  it." 

"Well,  that's  settled,"  said  Mort;  "what  we  are  going  to 
do  if  there  are  any  profits  left,  is  to  divide  it  into  five 
equal  parts,  and  for  you  to  get  all  the  honors  out  of  it,  that 
is,  you  and  our  friend,  the  alderman." 

"That  isn't  a  square  deal — where  do  I  come  in?" 

"You'll  come  in,  Hooligan,  for  your  share  when  the  boys 
have  money;  you  know  you  always  get  a  good  part  of  it." 

This  suggestion,  while  not  entirely  satisfactory,  had  the  ef- 
fect of  silencing  him,  as  he  knew  it  was  true. 

"The  next  question  we  have  to  consider,"  remarked  Mort, 
"under  what  auspices,  what  name,  will  we  give  it?" 

They  all  looked  at  one  another,  waiting  for  a  suggestion. 
Hooligan  at  length  remarked,  "As  it  is  to  be  got  up  from 
round  the  corner,  and  as  I  am  to  act  as  treasurer,  how  would 
the  Hooligan  Guards  do?" 

Bert  gave  a  side  wink  at  Mort,  remarking  that,  "It  would 
not  be  a  bad  name,  but  it  would  be  too  local."  This  excuse 
was  to  satisfy  Hooligan's  dignity. 

"Well,  how  would  Great's  Own  do?"  suggested  Hooligan. 

"Wouldn't  do  at  all,"  remarked  Phipps.  "We  propose  to 
have  every  candidate  on  the  West  Side  there,  and  to  call  it 
after  any  one  of  them  would  be  to  slisrht  the  others." 

"I  tell  you,  men,  what  to  call  it ;  it's  the  young  crowd  that 
makes  the  Saturday  night  dances  a  success,  and  if  you  can 
only  get  enough  chippies  to  attend,  the  old  sports  will  be  sure 


A  BUSINESS   MEETING.  107 

to  be  there.  I  propose  we  call  it  the  Five  Jolly  Boys.  That 
will  take  with  the  girls,  and  wherever  the  girls  go  you  know 
their  steadies  will  follow  them." 

"Well  put,  Hart,"  said  Phipps;  "that  strikes  me  as  all  right. 
What  makes  the  First  Ward  Democratic  Ball  such  a  success? 
Nothing  but  the  women  that's  there — every  old  bald  pate  in 
the  city  goes  there  to  ogle  them." 

"It's  different  on  the  West  Side,"  chimed  in  Mort;  "you 
know,  over  there  the  alderman  puts  the  screws  to  them,  and 
they  have  to  go.  If  they  didn't,  they'd  be  pulled.  I,  how- 
ever, think  the  name  Hart  suggested  is  pretty  good,  and  will 
vote  for  it. 

So  it  was  decided  that  the  Grand  Reception,  Carnival  and 
Ball  would  be  held  under  the  auspices  of  the  Five  Jolly  Boys 
on  the  last  Saturday  in  January. 

"I  move  that  Henry  Mort  be  chairman  of  the  managing 
committee,"  said  Bert.  Hart  seconded  the  motion,  put  it,  and 
declared  it  carried.    Mort  thanked  them  for  the  honor. 

"You'll  act  as  secretary,  Phipps.  I  suppose  you  and  Hooli- 
gan will  have  to  do  the  fine  work,  anyway."  Phipps  agreed 
to  do  the  best  he  could. 

"Now,  I  move  you,  Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Phipps,  "that 
Bert  be  the  chairman  on  printing." 

"Of  course,  he  will  have  to  consult  with  Mr.  Hooligan  as 
to  the  names  he'll  put  on  the  programme."  There  being  no 
other  nominations,  Mort  declared  it  carried,  and  proposed 
Hart  for  chairman  of  the  floor  committee. 

"He's  the  only  lady's  man  in  the  bunch,  and  so  is  the  one 
best  fitted  to  the  position,"  continued  Mort,  smiling. 

"Where's  Hooligan?"  said  Hart,  laughing. 

"Oh,  Hooligan  must  be  chairman  of  the  committee  on  re- 
ception. He  knows  everybody,"  replied  Mort.  This  remark 
was  very  pleasing  to  Hooligan,  who  began  to  warm  up.  "Where 
are  you  going  to  put  Rock?"  inquired  Phipps  of  Mort. 

"Why,  as  Hooligan,  on  account  of  his  being  treasurer,  will 
have  to  be  chairman  of  the  refreshment  committee,  I  pro- 
pose we  let  Hooligan  put  him  wherever  he  thinks  he  will  be 
most  useful ;  that's  up  to  him." 


108  A  BUSINESS  MEETING. 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  offer  Alderman  Great 
the  position  of  chairman  of  the  reception  committee,''  suggest- 
ed Phipps.  "Of  course,  I  want  Mr.  Hooligan  to  know  that  I 
am  not  opposing  him,  and  if  he  wants  to  stay  I  am  with  him 
to  a  finish." 

Hooligan  thought  that  on  account  of  the  Alderman's  great 
influence  with  the  well-to-do  people  it  might  be  wise. 

"Well,  just  as  you  say,"  replied  Mort. 

"I  think  if  I  attend  to  the  finances  and  the  refreshments,  I 
will  have  my  hands  full." 

"Yes,  and  a  certain  lady  who  will  be  there,"  suggested  Hart, 
laughing. 

Hooligan  grinned  his  acknowledgment  of  the  responsibility. 

"You  will  note  the  change  then,  Mr.  Phipps,"  said  the  chair- 
man. 

"Now,  what  about  the  Alderman's  colleague?"  asked  Bert, 
looking  over  at  Mort. 

"Oh,  we'll  sell  him  some  tickets,"  remarked  Hart,  looking  at 
Hooligan. 

"To  hell  with  him,"  said  Hooligan,  with  some  warmth ;  "cut 
him  out.  Why,  the  other  night  he  had  the  gall  to  vote  against 
Great  in  the  council." 

"What  was  it  about?"  said  Mort,  as  if  much  interested. 

"Well,  you  see,  it  was  this  way:  the  R.  P.  C.  and  F.  is 
coming  into  Chicago,  and  they  want  the  right  of  way  over  a 
few  streets  that  don't  amount  to  much.  The  Alderman  prom- 
ised to  put  it  through  for  them.  It  was  all  fixed;  when  up 
bobs  the  skate,  who  began  to  talk  about  property  values,  the 
right  of  property  owners  on  the  streets,  and  went  so  far  as  to 
say  the  city  should  have  some  compensation.  You'd  have 
laughed  if  you  heard  the  Alderman  from  the  first  shout  'Bunk !' 
Then  the  stiff  wanted  it  to  be  referred  to  a  committee.  Alder- 
man Great  got  up  and  looked  right  over  at  the  Mayor,  who, 
you  know,  is  a  great  friend  of  his,  and  said,  'I  am  sorry  to  be 
compelled  to  move  that  the  motion  of  my  honored  colleague 
be  laid  on  the  table.' 

"The  alderman  from  the  — th  ward  got  up  and  said^  that  he 
was  all  out  of  patience  with  hearing  men  talk  against  the 


A  BUSINESS  MEETING.  109 

progress  of  our  city  that  had  received  so  much  benefits  from 
the  railway.^,  r.nd  with  great  pleasure  he  seconded  the  motion 
of  Alderman  Great." 

"Good  for  him,"  remarked  Phipps,  as  he  winked  aX  Mort. 
"And  what  became  of  the  motion?" 

"Why,  there  was  only  about  eleven  votes  against  it.  They 
were  some  silk  stocking  fellows,  mainly  from  the  wards  where 
the  railway  was  coming  through." 

"I  wonder,"  remarked  Mort,  shaking  his  head  and  looking 
serious,  "how  people  send  such  fellows  to  the  Council !" 

"I  understand  Great  has  decided  upon  a  change  as  soon  as 
the  other  fellow's  term  is  up,"  remarked  Phipps., 

"You  bet,"  said  Hooligan ;  "he  won't  go  back  again." 

"Why  don't  you  take  the  job?"  said  Bert.  "You  and  Great 
could  get  on  well  together." 

"I've  been  thinking  about  it,"  remarked  Hooligan. 

"Perhaps  Great  has  promised  it  to  some  one  else,"  remarked 
Hart,  looking  serious. 

"I  don't  care  who  he  has  promised  it  to,"  said  Mort ;  "we're 
all  for  Hooligan  first,  last,  and  all  the  time,  if  he  wants  it." 

Hooligan  bowed  his  acknowledgment  of  their  fealty,  and 
said  if  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  into  the  primary  he  would 
let  them  know  in  good  time. 

"That  being  the  case,  all  we  can  do  for  the  other  alderman 
is  to  sell  him  some  tickets.  I  hope  you  have  no  objection," 
said  Mort,  looking  over  at  Hooligan. 

Hooligan  was  generous  enough  to  say  he  had  not. 

"Now,  Bert  and  Phipps,  see  about  getting  some  pluggers 
out ;  tell  the  printer  to  send  the  bill  to  Hooligan.  You'll  also 
have  to  locate  a  hall.     Hooligan  will  put  up  a  deposit." 

Hooligan,  who  saw  himself  sailing  into  the  City  Council, 
could  refuse  them  nothing. 

"Is  there  any  more  business  to  be  done?"  inquired  Mort. 
There  was  no  response.  "Then,  Alderman,  it's  about  time  you 
put  up  a  drink." 

Hooligan's  big  red  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles.  "What'll 
you  have?" 

After  the  drinks  were  served,  Mort,  holding  his  glass  in 


110  DENVER. 

his  hand,  said,  "Here's  to  our  next  alderman!"     The  regulars 
joined  the  boys  in  the  toast. 

Hooligan  felt  that  there  was  something  in  this  world  worth 
living  "for,  and  in  the  fullness  of  his  heart,  asked  the  crowd 
to  take  another  drink. 


Chapter  XIV. 

DENVER 

Scully,  after  leaving  the  depot,  sauntered  leisurely  up  the 
street.  He  had  walked  but  a  couple  of  blocks  when  a  porter 
accosted  him. 

"Hotel,  sir?" 

Mike  surveyed  the  building,  and  believing  from  its  appear- 
ance that  the  rates  would  be  moderate,  permitted  the  hotel 
runner  to  take  his  grip.  On  reaching  the  clerk's  desk,  he  was 
met  with  the  usual,  "Good  evening,  sir,"  and  the  register  was 
shoved  towards  him.  He  hesitated  for  a  moment  as  to  what 
name  he  should  assume.  He  had  been  in  other  cities  where 
it  had  been  prudent  to  use  other  than  his  own,  but  those  days 
were  past  and  to  be  forgotten,  so  in  a  bold  hand  he  wrote 
down  "Michael  Scully,  Chicago." 

The  clerk  asked  him  if  he  wanted  his  key. 

"No;  I  would  like  to  be  shown  to  the  wash-room.  I  feel 
a  little  grimy  after  the  long  journey."  The  clerk  pointed  in 
the  direction  he  had  to  go.  On  his  return  to  the  desk  he 
asked  the  clerk  how  the  hotel  was  conducted.  "European 
plan,  sir;  but  excellent  restaurant  adjoining."  Scully  took 
supper,  and  then  set  out  to  view  the  city. 

He  went  in  the  direction  where  there  were  the  most  lights. 
He  was  impressed  with  all  he  saw — fine  buildings,  stores  with 
beautiful  display  windows,  well  lit  up  so  the  passersby  could 
see  their  wares.  He  passed  bank  buildings  and  hotels,  and  he 
thought  to  himself,  "This  doesn't  look  like  the  West  one  reads 
of,"  his  impression  being  that  he  would  find  Denver  a  city 


DENVER.  HI 

full  of  disorderly  saloons,  gambling  houses,  and  worse.  He 
was  astonished  at  the  good  order,  the  cleanliness  of  the  streets, 
and  the  respectable  conduct  and  appearance  of  the  people. 

"I  think,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  have  struck  the  right  place." 

On  returning  to  his  hotel  he  sat  down,  lit  a  cigar,  and  began 
to  think  of  plans  for  tomorrow.  "I  will  have  to  seek  employ- 
ment," he  thought,  "but  at  what  ?" 

He  was  a  fairly  good  scholar,  but  had  not  the  confidence  in 
his  clerical  ability  to  seek  a  position  where  a  knowledge  of 
bookkeeping  was  necessary.  His  cigar  being  finished,  he  asked 
to  be  shown  to  his  room,  determined  to  let  the  morrow  take 
care  of  itself. 

That  night  before  going  to  bed  he  thanked  God  for  his  de- 
liverance, and  prayed  that  He  would  guide  his  steps  in  the 
future,  so  that  he  might  become  a  worthy  citizen. 

During  the  night  he  was  awakened  by  the  violent  coughing 
of  some  person  in  an  adjoining  room.  He  felt  for  the  poor 
sufferer,  and  thought  how  thankful  he  should  be  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  vigorous  health.  He  soon  fell  asleep,  and  did  not 
awaken  until  the  bright  Colorado  sunshine  penetrated  the  space 
between  the  blinds  and  the  window  sash.  He  got  up,  washed 
and  dressed,  felt  in  splendid  shape,  and  resolved  to  put  in  a 
full  day  of  it.  The  bright  sunshine  and  a  view  of  some  of  the 
country  obtainable  from  his  window  made  him  eager  to  get  out. 

As  he  sat  down  to  breakfast  in  the  hotel  restaurant,  he 
noticed  that  at  another  table  sat  his  fellow-passenger  of  the 
::!.£^ht  before,  his  pale,  weary  face  showing  that  he  had  spent 
a  bad  night.  It  was  more  than  likely  it  was  he  he  had  heard 
coughing.  A  woman  came  in,  and  with  her  a  young  girl  about 
seventeen  years  old.  whom  she  was  leading.  The  girl  could 
hardly  stand,  she  was  so  feeble.  The  woman,  her  mother, 
most  likely,  seemed  harrassed  with*  care.  She  conducted  her 
patient  to  a  chair,  and  held  her  while  she  dropped  into  it. 
This  exertion  brous^ht  on  a  violent  fit  of  coughing ;  her  mother 
placed  a  handkerchief  to  her  lips,  to  expectorate  in. 

The  waiter  who  was  in  attendance  took  their  order,  and 
when  it  came  the  mother  pressed  her  child  to  eat,  if  only  a 
little.    Her  entreaties  were  in  vain ;  the  poor  child  was  too  far 


112  DENVER. 

gone  to  partake  of  solid  food.  The  mother  placed  the  tea-cup 
to  her  lips,  she  sipped  a  little;  an  appeal  was  made  to  her  to 
just  try  a  bite  of  toast,  "Ever  so  little,  darling,"  her  mother 
would  say.  Scully  could  hardly  keep  from  gazing  at  her, 
though  he  feared  they  might  think  him  rude.  His  big  heart 
felt  for  the  mother  and  the  child,  and  his  mind  wandered 
back  to  the  wicked  sinners  he  had  left  behind,  how  they  had 
seemingly  good  health  in  spite  of  their  wickedness,  while  the 
poor  innocent  child,  who  had  probably  never  transgressed  the 
laws  of  God  or  man,  must  suffer. 

His  breakfast  over,  he  determined  to  take  a  long  walk.  This 
day  he  would  give  up  to  sight-seeing,  tomorrow  he  would  look 
for  work. 

Denver  at  this  time  was  not  a  large  city,  its  suburbs  did  not 
extend  far  from  its  center,  so  he  soon  got  a  view  of  the  moun- 
tains; he  saw  their  base,  his  eyes  wandered  up  until  they 
reached  the  tree  line,  and  thence  to  their  snow-clad  summits. 
The  day  was  bright  and  clear,  so  that  far  off  he  could  see  the 
majestic  proportions  of  Pike's  Peak.  He  knew  it  was  many 
miles  off,  but  at  that  distance  the  grandeur  of  its  proportions 
was  plainly  visible,  its  snow-white  crest  standing  out  in  bold 
relief.    Long's  Peak  was  also  plain  to  be  seen  on  this  ideal  day. 

"I  would  like  to  climb  one  of  those  big  fellows,"  he  thought 
to  himself. 

He  looked  in  the  direction  of  some  of  the  foothills,  which 
seemed  to  him  to  be  but  easy  walking  distance  from  where  he 
stood. 

'T  will  climb  some  of  them,  anyway,"  he  said  to  himself,  and 
off  he  started  at  a  brisk  pace.  He  could  feel  the  ozone  enter- 
ing into  his  lungs,  giving  him  exhilarating  vitality  as  he  walked 
in  the  direction  of  the  hills.  They  seemed  but  a  short  distance 
from  the  end  of  the  street  he  was  lool-ing  along.  He  had 
walked  until  the  last  house  had  been  passed,  but  the  object  he 
desired  to  reach  was  still  far  from  him.  He  walked  on,  but 
in  spite  of  the  distance  he  had  already  covered,  the  hills  seemed 
but  little  nearer.     At  length  he  met  a  traveler. 

"How  far  is  it  to  that  hill,  over  yonder?"  The  man  turned 
around  to  see  the  object  of  his  inquiry. 


DENVER.  113 

"It  is  between  twenty  and  twenty-five  miles. "" 

"Tliank  you,  sir.  My !  but  this  is  a  country  of  magnificent 
distances!    I  was  thinking  to  go  that  far,"  said  Mike,  laughing. 

"I'm  afraid  you'd  be  late  for  lunch  when  you  got  back,"  re- 
plied the  man. 

"I  suppose  that's  what  you  call  Pike's  Peak,  in  the  distance, 
over  there?" 

"Yes,  sir;  that's  him.  1  suppose  you  are  a  visitor  in  these 
parts?"  said  the  stranger  to  Mike,  who  was  already  retracing 
his  steps. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  this  is  God's  country  here ;  you  can  study  nature  in 
its  rugged  and  gigantic  form.  Of  course,  there  are  higher 
peaks  in  the  world  than  ours,  and  deeper  chasms,  but  if  you 
spend  a  month  in  Colorado  any  you  see  afterward  in  that  line 
won't  be  much  of  a  novelty." 

When  he  got  back  to  Denver's  main  street  it  was  high  noon. 
The  long  walk  and  the  invigorating  air  had  given  him  an  appe- 
tite, and  he  entered  a  well  furnished,  commodious  restaurant 
and  had  dinner. 

The  afternoon  he  spent  viewing  the  city.  Its  business  activi- 
ties impressed  him ;  it  seemed  a  solid  hive  of  industry,  pros- 
perous business  men  and  rough-looking,  sturdy  miners  kept 
flitting  to  and  fro ;  well-dressed  women  paraded  the  business 
streets,  looking  into  the  store  windows,  some  going  in  to  make 
purchases. 

During  his  journey  on  that  afternoon  he  found  himself  on 
Capitol  Hill,  though  the  Capitol  building  had  not  been  placed 
on  it  at  that  time.  He  gazed  in  admiration  at  the  splendid 
panorama  he  saw  before  him.  "Everything  is  truly  grand 
here;  this  is  worth  the  journey  from  Chicago  to  get  this 
view" ;  such  were  his  thoughts. 

He  found  himself  on  Market  Street,  where  provisions  were 
sold,  just  as  he  had  seen  them  sold  in  Chicago  on  a  much 
larger  scale.  He  wandered  along  it,  and  noticed  a  change. 
He  could  see  the  low  saloon,  the  dance  hall,  the  degraded 
women.  Here  was  the  shady  side  of  life.  He  wondered  how- 
things  so  foul  could  exist  in  the  midst  of  things  so  fair.     He 


114  DENVER. 

remembered  the  Scriptural  story  he  had  heard,  "That  when 
Lucifer  was  vanquished  and  thrown  headlong  out  of  Heaven 
into  Hades,  the  evil  one  was  chained."  Mike,  in  communing 
with  himself,  thought  that  the  chain  was  so  long  and  allowed 
him  to  cover  so  much  territory  they  might  just  as  well  let 
him  loose. 

Booze  and  sin,  and  sin  and  booze  are  always  found  together, 
and  their  offsprings — poverty,  crime  and  disease — are  ever 
present. 

Scully  felt  he  was  getting  tired.  He  resolved  to  go  to  his 
hotel  and  rest.  On  his  way  he  stopped  at  a  book-stand  and 
purchased  a  copy  of  Thelma,  that  magnificent  production  of 
the  fertile  brain  of  Marie  Correlli.  On  his  arrival  at  the  hotel 
he  started  to  read  it,  and  became  so  absorbed  in  it  that  it  was 
time  for  supper  before  he  noticed  the  hours  passing. 

That  night  Mike  went  to  the  theatre.  This  was  before  the 
Tabor  Grand  Opera  House  had  been  opened.  The  theatre  he 
visited  was  a  small  concern,  where  they  were  playing  a  West- 
ern drama.  In  the  cast  there  were  cowboys,  miners,  Indians, 
and  Chinamen,  ladies  of  lofty  character,  and  others  of  easy 
virtue,  personated.  He  had  seen  much  better  shows  in  Chi- 
cago, of  similar  character,  so  was  not  much  impressed.  It 
helped,  however,  to  pass  the  time. 

The  following  morning  he  rose  early,  determined  to  seek  a 
job.  At  the  breakfast  table  he  noticed  that  his  consumptive 
friend  was  still  there. 

"Good  morning,"  Mike  said,  addressing  him. 

"Good  morning,  sir." 

"How  do  you  feel  this  morning?" 

"I  think  I'm  somewhat  better;  if  I  could  only  get  rid  of 
this  cough  I  think  I  would  soon  be  all  right."  (The  consump- 
tive is  always  full  of  hope.) 

"Well,  probably,"  continued  Mike,  "this  climate  may  do  you 
some  good." 

"I  sincerely  hope  it  will;  I  have  suffered  a  great  deal.  I 
have  bad  nights,  my  cough  won't  let  me  sleep." 

The  waiter  who  was  at  Mike's  elbow  during  this  conversa- 
tion looked  over  at  him. 


DENVER.  115 

Scully  took  some  time  over  his  breakfast.  The  invalid  re- 
tired to  the  hotel  office,  where  he  reclined  in  an  easy  chair. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that  man  ?"  said  Scully  to  the  waiter. 

"Six  weeks,"  replied  the  man. 

"Too  bad!  poor  fellow;  you  see,  he  is  still  full  of  hope." 

"They  all  are,"  replied  the  waiter. 

"What  became  of  the  girl  that  was  here  yesterday  morn- 
ing?" 

"They  have  taken  her  to  Colorado  Springs." 

"Do  you  think  she  will  get  better?    She  is  young." 

"Not  one  chance  in  a  million ;  she's  too  far  gone.  She'll  not 
last  a  month.  The  air  up  where  she  has  gone  is  so  light  she 
won't  be  able  to  breathe  at  all.  The  trouble  with  most  of 
the  people  who  come  out  here  after  their  lungs  are  affected  is 
they  wait  too  long.  I  came  out  here  from  New  Jersey.  My 
doctor  at  home  sent  me  when  he  found  that  I  was  affected. 
Now  I  feel  as  well  as  ever  I  did  in  my  life.  I  went  back  home 
some  five  years  ago,  thinking  I  was  all  right.  First  winter  I 
was  there  I  began  to  cough,  so  .1  rushed  back,  and  now  I  am 
here  for  good." 

"I  think  you  showed  good  judgment,"  remarked  Mike.  "How 
is  business  here?" 

"Well,  this  season  of  the  year  things  are  very  slow  in  Den- 
ver. You  see,  we  depend  a  good  deal  on  visitors,  people  who 
come  to  see  the  mountains  and  the  summer  resorts,  like  Colo- 
rado Springs  and  Manitou." 

This  piece  of  information  was  not  over-pleasant  for  ?vlike 
to  hear,  who  was  about  to  set  out  in  pursuit  of  work. 

"Of  course,  there  is  plenty  of  mining  all  the  year  round,  but 
that's  a  pretty  tough  job.  Seven  days  a  week,  no  Sundays,  no 
holidays  in  that  business." 

"Surely  they  don't  work  on  the  National  holiday — they're 
too  patriotic !" 

"Patriotic  nothing!  The  hunt  for  gold  and  silver  is  all  they 
care  for,  except  at  election  times,  and  then  the  big  miners 
and  smelters  are  intensely  patriotic,  but  they  keep  going  seven 
days  a  week,  just  the  same." 


lib  DENVER. 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  a  little  prejudiced  against  some  of 
Colorado's  leading  citizens." 

"So  will  you  be,  if  you  stay  here  any  length  of  time.  You 
will  find  a  shoddy  aristocracy  in  this  part  of  the  country,  just 
as  arrogant  and  as  stuck-up  as  in  any  part  of  the  East."' 

"Well,  mining  is  a  great  business,"  remarked  Alike. 

"Not  what  it's  cracked  up  to  be,"  replied  the  waiter;  "to 
one  that  strikes  it  rich,  a  hundred  go  broke.  Do  you  know, 
that  for  every  dollar  of  gold  that  is  dug  up  there  are  four 
sunk  in  getting  it?" 

"Well,  that's  strange." 

"It's  true,  nevertheless;  you  go  up  into  the  mining  country, 
and  see  the  thousands  of  holes  that  have  been  sunk  in  the 
ground  by  little  prospectors  who  sunk  all  they  had  in  them,  and 
stopped  only  when  they  were  starved  out.  Of  course,  if  you 
strike  it  rich,  you  may  become  a  millionaire,  but  if  you  do  you 
have  a  great  chance  of  being  euchred  out  of  it  by  some  legal 
technicality  of  the  law,  some  of  the  big  fellows  making  a  prior 
claim,  as  they  call  it." 

"Well,  but  the  judges  decide  those  matters,  don't  they?" 

"Judges !  Judges !  You  say  well,  friend.  Let  me  tell  you 
they  make  judges  out  of  men  here,  and  the  rule  is  for  the  big 
fellows  to  have  the  selecting  of  them." 

Mike's  breakfast  being  over  he  left  the  hotel,  determined  to 
seek  employment ;  he  walked  along  through  the  business  streets 
in  hope  of  seeing  a  sign  out,  "Wanted,  a  man."  He  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  tackle  the  first  thing  he  could  get.  In  some  of 
the  large  stores  boys  were  wanted,  in  others  girls.  He  read  of 
carpenters  being  wanted,  and  men  who  could  do  certain 
branches  of  skilled  labor.  He  began  to  think  to  himself,  "What 
an  advantage  it  is  to  have  a  trade !"  After  walking  a  couple 
of  hours  without  seeing  anything  that  struck  him  as  suitable 
he  went  to  the  manufacturing  district.  He  stopped  before  a 
large  brick  building,  where  he  could  hear  the  noise  of  ma- 
chinery, and  went  in.  Going  forward  to  the  oflEice  he  made 
application. 

The  man  he  accosted  said,  "We  are  full  up  at  present." 


DENVER.  1 17 

Scully  tried  another  place — he  was  met  with  the  same  answer. 

In  one  place  he  tried,  the  man  was  a  little  more  communi- 
cative. "What  kind  of  a  job  are  you  looking  for,  young  fel- 
low ?" 

"I  am  not  particular,  sir;  anything  that  I  can  do." 

"Why,  have  you  no  trade?" 

"No,  sir ;  I  would  be  willing  to  help  at  anything.  1  could 
pack  and  work  in  the  shipping-room,  or  anything  you  want 
to  put  me  at." 

"Well,  that's  fair  enough,  but  we  have  nothing  at  present. 
I  will  take  your  name  and  address,  and  notify  you  as  soon  as 
there  is  an  opening."  Mike  knew  that  this  was  to  be  a  frost, 
but  to  be  civil  he  gave  his  name  and  address.  The  man,  look- 
ing at  him,  said,  "I  suppose  you  are  a  stranger  in  the  city?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  I  am  afraid  you  struck  Denver  at  a  bad  time.  You 
can  call  around  after  the  New  Year,  and  if  there  is  an  open- 
ing I  will  put  you  to  work." 

Scully  thanked  the  man  and  left. 

Before  noon  he  had  called  into  over  a  dozen  places,  where 
he  received  similar  answers  to  those  above.  He  began  to  feel 
a  little  uneasy.  Twelve  o'clock  struck ;  he  saw  the  crowds  hur- 
rying to  lunch,  and  he  resolved  to  go  and  eat.  There  was 
no  use  trying  further  until  afternoon.  He  spent  a  full  hour 
over  his  lunch,  thinking  there  was  no  use  to  hurry.  The  waiter 
who  attended  him  seemed  a  sociable  kind  of  a  fellow.  Mike 
had  given  him  a  dime  as  a  tip,  for  which  the  man  thanked 
him. 

"How  is  work  in  Denver,  now?"  inquired  Mike. 

"Pretty  slow,  sir.  There  is  little  doing  this  season  of  the 
year,  only  in  the  mining  districts.  In  the  busy  season  we  re- 
quire^ six  waiters.  Now  we  get  on  with  three,  and  I'm  afraid 
one  of  us  will  have  to  go." 

"That's  too  bad,"  replied  Mike.  "I've  been  looking  for  a 
job  all  morning,  without  any  prospect." 

"I  suppose  you  are  a  stranger?" 

"Yes :  I  only  got  in  about  two  days  ago." 


1 18  DENVER. 

"Where  are  you  frorrif" 

"Chicago." 

"I  think  you  had  better  stayed  there  over  the  winter,  any- 
way. You  see,  here  men  who  have  jobs,  kno^V  how  to  hold  on 
to  them.  If  it  was  the  spring  you  would  have  no  trouble — 
they  would  be  looking  for  men  like  you." 

"Well,  this  seems  a  lively  city,"  said  Mike. 

"So  it  is,  but  we  have  our  dull  seasons.  Of  course,  if  you 
want  to  go  into  the  mining  districts  there's  plenty  of  work." 

This  gave  some  consolation,  to  Mike,  who  determined  if  he 
could  find  nothing  in  the  city,  the  next  day  he  would  try  the 
mines. 

That  afternoon  Scully  called  into  a  score  of  places,  but  in 
every  one  he  got  nearly  the  same  answer  as  he  had  got  in  the 
morning.  In  some  of  them  he  was  told  they  would  give  him 
the  first  opening.  "Live,  horse,  and  you'll  get  grass,"  he 
thought  to  himself. 

The  shadows  of  evening  coming  on,  he  gave  up  the  search 
for  the  day.  He  had  still  some  dollars  left  and  a  stout  heart. 
"I  will  try  again  tomorrow,  and  if  I  fail  I  will  let  out  for  the 
mountains." 

He  went  back  to  his  hotel  to  eat  supper.  After  it  was  over 
he  read  the  newspapers  carefully  to  see  if  in  the  advertising 
columns  he  could  glean  any  information  that  would  help  him. 
He  noticed  there  was  a  demand  for  miners  and  men  to  work 
in  the  different  smelters.  He  noted  the  addresses  of  certain 
offices  in  the  city,  where  men  wanting  to  go  into  the  mines  had 
to  apply.  After  he  had  read  the  paper  through,  a  sense  of 
lonesomeness  came  over  him.  He  had  been  used  to  company 
all  his  life ;  he  wondered  to  himself  what  Mort,  Bert,  Phipp3, 
Hart  and  Rock  were  doing.  "I  suppose  they  are  in  Hooli- 
gan's," he  thought  to  himself.  He  thought  of  poor  little  Tony 
and  wondered  what  would  become  of  him. 

"Poor  little  fellow,"  he  said  to  himself,  "what  show  has 
he?"  He  began  to  think  of  his  mother,  of  the  good  Father 
Nolan  and  of  Mrs.  Great.  They  seemed  to  rise  up  like  ghosts 
before  him ;  in  all  his  life  he  had  never  had  time  to  think  be- 
fore.    He  felt  uneasy  in  spite  of  himself.     "I'm  going  to  have 


'^      DENVER.  119 

a  dose  of  melancholies/'  he  said  to  himself.  Somehow  a  de- 
sire for  a  drink  entered  his  mind.  He  threw  the  paper  on 
Ihe  table,  went  over  to  the  bar  and  bought  a  cigar,  lit  it  and 
went  out  into  the  street.  He  walked  along  looking  into  the 
stores,  many  of  which  he  had  seen  before,  and  gazed  on  ex- 
actly the  same  kind  of  merchandise. 

About  nine  o'clock  he  found  himself  on  a  street  he  had  not 
noticed  before;  he  was  passing  a  saloon  and  concert  hall, 
where  he  heard  loud  clapping  of  hands  and  cries  of  "Bravo!" 
as  if  the  performer,  whoever  it  was,  had  given  general  satis- 
faction. He  thought  he  would  go  in  and  spend  an  hour  or 
two.  The  concert  hall  was  in  a  long  store,  a  bar  on  the  right 
hand  side  from  the  entrance.  At  the  end  of  the  bar  there 
was  a  rail,  inside  of  which  sat  three  musicians ;  one  had  a 
violin,  another  a  clarionet,  while  the  third  had  a  multiplicity 
of  musical  instruments,  including  a  large  bass  drum,  a  pair 
of  cymbals,  a  snare  drum,  and  an  appliance  he  put  to  his 
mouth.  At  the  rear  of  the  store  there  was  a  stage  raised 
about  two  feet  from  the  floor.  At  the  left  side  of  the  stage 
there  was  a  curtain  which  served  foi^  a  door  leading  to  the 
back  of  the  stage,  the  place  behind  the  stage  being  shut  off 
from  observation  by  a  drop  scene,  on  the  surface  of  which 
was  painted  a  landscape  of  one  of  Colorado's  famous  moun- 
tains. This  space  behind  the  scenery  served  as  a  green  room, 
where  the  talent  might  sit,  to  await  their  turn  and  entertain 
their  friends  and  patrons  during  the  intervals. 

On  Mike's  entering  the  place  nearly  every  seat  was  occu- 
pied in  the  rear  and  on  both  sides  of  the  hall  by  men  who  had 
a  business  appearance,  fairly  well  dressed.  The  front  seats 
and  those  down  the  center  were  occupied  by  men  whose  garb 
showed  they  were  principally  miners.  In  the  front,  near  the 
stage,  were  a  number  of  young  men,  many  of  them  youths, 
who  were  uproarious  in  their  applause  of  certain  artists,  es- 
pecially those  who  were  most  suggestive  in  their  words  and 
in  their  songs  or  their  manners  on  the  stage. 

Mike  had  hardly  got  seated  when  the  waiter  stood  before 
him.    It  is  remarkable  how  attentive  waiters  are  in  such  places. 


120  DENVER. 

Scully  ordered  some  ginger  ale,  which  was  supplied  him  in  a 
diminutive  tumbler. 

The  first  number  after  Mike's  arrival,  as  the  little  slip  which 
served  as  a  programme  informed  him,  was  by  Miss  Alemanda 
Montezuma.  She  wore  tights  that  bagged  at  the  knees,  and  a 
very  short  skirt.  The  band  struck  up  a  few  introductory  notes 
while  the  young  lady,  who  must  have  been  about  fifty,  kept 
bowing  at  her  audience.  She  looked  as*  if  she  was  trying  to 
locate  some  parties  in  particular;  at  last  she  spied  a  couple  of 
miners,  and  gave  them  one  of  her  most  attractive  smiles  by 
way  of  recognition,  and  then  commenced  to  warble  her  ditty 
in  a  manner  that  showed  she  was  a  veteran.  But  such  a  voice ! 
The  lower  notes  might  be  designated  a  squeal,  and  the  upper 
ones  a  scream.  The  fellow  who  pounded  the  big  drum  was 
undoubtedly  a  friend  of  hers,  he  was  attending  strictly  to  busi- 
ness, and  when  the  highest  note  in  her  gamut  was  reached  and 
a  crash  seemed  inevitable,  he  always  came  to  the  rescue  with 
his  big  drum.  At  the  conclusion  of  her  first  song  she  bowed 
and  walked  to  the  end  of  the  stage,  as  if  to  retire,  but  acting 
as  if  she  had  suddenly  changed  her  mind,  returned  to  the  cen- 
ter of  the  platform  and  bowed  again,  not  forgetting  to  make 
a  grimace  in  the  direction  of  the  two  miners  whom  she  had 
noticed  on  first  entering. 

The  band  struck  up  a  lively  air,  she  commenced  to  dance 
and  hop  around,  her  acrobatic  performance  consisting  prin- 
cipally in  showing  how  high  she  could  kick  and  how  much  of 
her  form  divine  she  could  display  during  the  operation.  The 
young  men  and  the  miners  who  occupied  the  front  seats  ap- 
plauded vigorously,  the  business  men  in  the  rear  and  on  the 
sides  of  the  hall  laughed  together. 

The  next  number  was  bv  Charlotta  Le  Blank.  The  band 
played  a  little  symphony  as  Miss  La  Blank  appeared.  She  had 
on  an  old  straw  hat  with  some  faded  flowers  on  it,  a  red  sweat- 
er, a  bandana  handkerchief  tied  around  her  neck,  a  ragged 
skirt  that  reached  midway  between  her  knees  and  ankles,  a 
pair  of  well-worn  shoes  down  at  the  heels,  only  one  of  which 
was  laced. 

On  her  appearance  there  was  a  general  uproar.    She  walked 


DENVER.  121 

straight  towards  the  front  of  the  stage,  one  of  her  shoulders 
elevated,  and  made  an  ugly  grimace  at  the  youths  who  occu- 
pied the  seat  close  to  the  stage.  After  eyeing  her  audience 
in  a  manner  as  if  she  had  a  grudge  against  some  of  them,  she 
began  to  shout,  "The  Broadway!  The  Broadway!  they  do  such 
things  on  the  Broadway !"  interspersed  with  something  about 
her  "steady,"  some  fellow  by  the  name  of  "Jack"  of  which  she 
was  somewhat  suspicious,  as  a  girl  by  the  name  of  "Magg 
Murphy  was  butting  in,"  but  she  was  resolved  that  if  Jack 
didn't  do  the  right  thing  by  her  she'd  knock  his  block  ofif.  This 
threat  was  accompanied  by  an  appropriate  pose,  that  took  the 
young  men  and  miners  by  storm.  She  smiled  her  approval  of 
their  appreciation,  backed  two  steps  towards  the  exit  and  re- 
turned as  if  she'd  forgotten  something. 

Her  next  effort  was  descriptive  of  what  took  place  out  in 
the  park,  for  a  lark  after  dark,  which  entitled  her  to  an  encore. 
She  came  on  again,  made  a  "Bowery"  grimace  at  the  young 
fellows  in  front,  and  retired,  to  Mike  Scully's  great  comfort, 
as  he  thought  she  was  about  the  coarsest  Christian  he  had  ever 
seen  on  the  stage.  At  the  conclusion  of  Miss  Le  Blank's  song 
the  curtain  leading  to  the  green  room  was  partly  lifted,  and 
the  old-fashioned  physiognomy  of  Alemanda  Montezuma  could 
be  seen  peeping  through ;  she  was  trying  to  attract  the  attention 
of  the  two  miners,  whom  she  had  singled  out  amongst  the 
audience.  On  their  seeing  her  they  rose  from  their  seats  and 
went  behind  the  curtain,  leaving  room  for  Miss  La  Blank  to 
take  the  position  vacated  by  Miss  Montezuma.  This  young 
lady  bestowing  her  glances  on  the  young  men  in  front,  none 
of  them  seemed  anxious  to  respond  to  her  invitation.  Mike 
Scully's  ginger  ale  was  only  half  drank  when  the  waiter  came 
forward  as  if  to  take  his  glass  away,  Mike  seeing  his  intent 
took  the  glass  in  his  hand.  "Oh,  excuse  me,"  said  the  waiter. 

Mike  smiled  at  him,  held  his  glass  for  a  few  moments  in  his 
hand,  then  emptied  it,  and  told  the  waiter  to  bring  him  more 
ginger  ale  and  a  cigar. 

Just  at  this  moment  a  heavily  built  man  came  in  and  sat 
down  at  the  same  table  with  Mike.  He  wore  good  clothes,  a 
big,  broad  hat  covered  his  head  and  he  had  the  appearance  of 


122  DENVER 

a  prosperous  man,  rugged  in  appearance.  Mike  sized  him  up 
as  being  either  a  miner  or  a  farmer.  His  hair  and  whiskers 
were  of  an  iron  gray  and  he  seemed  to  be  about  sixty'  years 
of  age.  He  had  been  drinking.  When  he  sat  down  on  the 
chair  he  nearly  put  it  out  of  commission. 

The  waiter  came  with  Mike's  order.  The  new-comer  told 
him  to  bring  him  some  whiskey — "The  best  you  have." 

"Yes,  sir." 

He  gave  the  waiter  a  quarter  when  he  brought  his  drink 
and  brushed  him  aside  just  as  Miss  Veronia  Sunlight  reached 
the  footlights. 

Miss  Sunlight  was  the  star  attraction  of  the  show.  She  was 
greeted  with  a  round  of  applause,  even  the  business  men  in  the 
rear  sat  up  in  their  seats.  She  bowed  gracefully  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  her  reception. 

Young,  not  to  exceed  twenty-four  years  of  age ;  a  well 
rounded  form  and  pleasing  countenance,  the  ravages  of  her 
profession  had  not  told  too  heavily  on  her.  She  was  some- 
what of  an  artist,  her  get-up  was  a  little  above  the  common. 
She  had  on  a  little  Turkish  cap  with  gold  tassel  placed  jauntily 
on  one  side  of  her  head,  a  white  dress  with  a  broad  green 
sash  over  her  left  shoulder,  pink  colored  tights  or  stockings 
and  laced  boots  that  came  up  to  the  calf  of  her  leg.  She  had 
a  rose  in  her  hand.  While  the  band  played  the  overture  she 
stood  demurely  in  the  center  of  the  stage  and  at  its  conclu- 
sion she  commenced  to  sing: — 

Sweet  flower,  emblem  of  purity ; 

Oh,  how  I  love  thee,  beauteous  and  free ; 
Sweet  flower,  bloom  in  eternity; 

Bloom  till  my  loved  one  returns  to  me. 

At  the  conclusion  of  each  verse  she  seemed  to  pay  no  atten- 
tion to  the  generous  applause  of  her  audience,  but  gazed  in- 
tently at  the  flower  she  held  in  her  hand. 

At  the  end  of  the  last  verse  she  bowed  herself  out  grace- 
fully, smiling  as  she  left  the  stage,  while  the  audience  was  ap- 
plauding, none  more  vigorously  than  the  late  arrival  who  sat 
at  the  table  with  Scullv.     He  shouted  "Bravo!  Bravo!"  and 


DENVER  123 

clapping  his  hands  in  a  manner  that  attracted  the  attention  of 
those  sitting  near. 

"By  gosh,  she's  good!"'  he  said,  speaking  to  Mike,  who  nod- 
Qod  his  head  in  approval. 

When  the  applause  had  reached  the  climax  Miss  Sunlight 
appeared  again,  radiant  with  smiles ;  which  she  bestowed  right 
and  left  on  her  admirers.  She  looked  in  the  direction  of  the 
stranger  whose  boisterous  manner  deserved  especial  notice. 

In  the  next  song  she  assumed  a  rollicking  manner.  She  had 
a  stein  in  her  hand  and  acted  as  if  taking  a  drink,  while  the  or- 
chestra played  the  preliminary  notes  of  the  Stein  Song.  The 
crowd  laughed  heartily  as  if  it  was  very  funny.  When  she 
came  to  the  chorus,  she  said  it  once  over,  and  said:  "Now,  I 
want  every  good  fellow  in  the  audience  to  join  in.  Now,  all  to- 
gether  " 

And  life  slips  its  te — ther 

When  good  fellows  get  to — ge — ther 

With  a  stein  on  the  table ; 

In  the  fellowship  of  spring. 

The  stentorian  voice  of  the  stranger  who  sat  near  Mike 
could  be  heard  above  the  big  drum,  shouting  "When  good  fel- 
lows get  together!" 

He  was  somewhat  out  of  tune,  but  what  he  lacked  in  mel- 
ody, he  made  up  in  lung  power. 

At  the  conclusion  of  her  song  she  retired.  "Encore,  en- 
core," resounded  through  the  hall.  xA.fter  a  few  seconds'  de- 
lay for  the  purpose  of  allowing  her  admirers  to  arrive  at  fever 
heat,  she  came  out  and  sang  the  chorus,  in  which  the  whole 
audience  joined. 

The  waiter  came  to  remove  the  glasses. 

"She's  fine !"  said  the  man  at  Mike's  table.  "Here,  waiter, 
bring  me  some  more  whiskey.  What'll  you  have,  young  fel- 
low?" 

Mike  thanked  him,  but  replied  that  he  didn't  care  for  any- 
thing. 

"Try  a  little  whiskey, — make  that  two  whiskeys." 

"No ;  if  I  take  anything,  I'll  have  some  ginger  ale." 


124  DENVER 

When  the  waiter  returned  with  the  order  the  gentleman  was 
still  praising  Miss  Sunlight's  efforts,  "By  gosh,  waiter,  I'd  like 
to  treat  that  young  lady — she's  grand." 

The  waiter  said  he  would  ask  Miss  Sunlight  if  she  would  ac- 
cept a  treat  from  a  gentleman.  The  latter  gave  him  a  half 
dollar,  which  he  put  in  his  pocket  and  went  on  his  mission  to 
see  if  the  young  woman  would  take  a  drink  with  an  ardent  ad- 
mirer. He  shortly  returned  and  told  the  gentleman  that  Miss 
Sunlight  felt  very  grateful  to  him  for  his  appreciation  of  her 
humble  effort,  and  would  accept  a  glass  of  wine  from  him. 
The  waiter  informed  the  gentleman  that  she  was  receiving  the 
congratulations  of  the  other  young  ladies  of  the  company.  This 
in  the  way  of  a  hint,  hit  the  mark. 

"Give  them  all  something,"  said  the  good-natured  man.  The 
waiter  went  to  the  bar  without  taking  the  trouble  of  asking  the 
rest  of  the  talent  what  they  wanted,  and  in  a  short  time  re- 
turned to  the  gentleman  and  told  him  the  score  was  three  dol- 
lars. "They  are  now  drinking  your  health,  sir,"  he  remarked,  as 
the  gentleman  fished  out  a  small  roll  of  bills  from  his  pocket 
and  gave  up  five  dollars,  the  waiter  returning  him  two  dollars 
change,  in  which  there  were  two  quarters.  "Here,  take  one 
yourself,"  said  the  stranger,  as  he  shoved  one  of  the  quarters 
to  the  waiter,  who  thanked  him  again,  and  going  behind  the 
curtain  told  Miss  Sunlight.  "There  was  a  live  one  in  the  audi- 
ence." 

"Do  you  think  he  has  any  dough  ?"  was  the  inquiry  of  Miss 
Sunlight. 

"Lots  of  it !"  replied  the  man.    "I  think  he  is  a  mine  owner." 

"Well,  do  you  think  I  should  send  him  a  note  ?" 

"No;  I  think  he's  too  far  gone  to  read  it.  I'll  whisper  to 
him." 

"All  right,  trot  him  in." 

He  returned  to  the  table  at  which  Mike  and  the  new-comer 
were  sitting,  and  bending  over  the  latter  whispered  into  his  ear, 
"Miss  Sunlight  told  me  to  express  her  deep  gratitude  to  you, 
and  she  would  take  it  as  an  honor  to  be  allowed  to  thank  you 


A  SUNSHINY  MORNING   WITH  A  CLOUDY  AFTERNOON.       125 

in  person,  if  you  would  kindly  retire  to  the  green  room  in  the 
rear  of  the  stage." 

The  gentleman  arose,  and  asking  Mike  to  excuse  him,  fol- 
lowed the  waiter. 


Chapter  XV 


A  SUNSHINY  MORNING  WITH  A  CLOUDY  AFTERNOON. 

"Good  morning,  Mrs.  O'Brien." 

"Good  morning,  your  Reverence,"  making  a  courtesy  as  she 
spoke. 

"I  see  you're  busy  this  morning." 

"Sure,  I'm  always  busy." 

"Well,  that's  what  keeps  you  so  good  and  healthy.  Where 
are  all  the  children?" 

"I've  just  got  rid  of  the  last  of  theip ;  they're  gone  to  school, 
and  Mamie  is  at  work." 

"Where's  the  Murphy  boy  ?    It's  he  I  came  to  see  you  about." 

"He  went  down  town  today.  I  suppose  he's  gone  to  see 
some  of  his  chums  that  sell  papers.  He  felt  a  little  lonesome, 
so  I  let  him  go." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Great  was  talking  to  me  about  him.  She  said 
she  would  like  to  see  him,  so  she  asked  me  to  call  and  tell  you 
to  bring  him  over  with  you,  as  she  wanted  to  have  a  talk  with 
you  about  him." 

"God  bless  her!  She's  always  thinking  about  the  widows 
and  the  orphan.    When  do  you  think  I  should  go?" 

"This  afternoon,  if  convenient.  T  should  like  to  be  there 
when  you  come." 

"Well,  say,  about  3  o'clock.    Will  that  do?" 

"Yes,  that  will  do  very  nicely.    Where's  Mr.  O'Brien?" 

Mrs.  O'Brien  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "He's  lying  in  bed 
there,"  bending  her  head  over  towards  the  parlor  bedroom. 

"Well,  perhaps  the  poor  man  is  tired." 


126      A  SUNSHINY   MORNING  WITH  A  CLOUDY  AFTERNOON. 

"  'Deed,  he  has  good  reason  to  be  tired,  roasting  his  shins  in 
HooHgan's  all  day  and  part  of  the  night.  I  wish  your  reverence 
could  do  something  with  him;  he  has  me  heart  scalded." 

"You  may  be  a  little  too  hard  on  him,"  said  the  priest,  smil- 
ing.   "I'll  drop  in  some  day  and  give  him  a  lecture,  anyhow." 

"I  wish  you  would." 

"Well,  good  morning.    I'll  see  you  at  3  o'clock." 

O'Brien,  who  had  heard  the  dialogue,  covered  up  his  head, 
making  believe  he  was  sound  asleep.  He  was  very  much  re- 
lieved when  he  heard  Father  Nolan  going  down  the  stairs. 
When  he  got  up  Mrs.  O'Brien  told  him  that  the  priest  had 
been  there  and  was  inquiring  for  him. 

"Oh,  'deed,  I  heard  you." 

"Well,  you  will  hear  him  some  day ;  he's  coming  to  see  you." 

O'Brien  went  into  the  kitchen  and  lit  his  pipe,  while  Mrs. 
O'Brien  was  setting  the  things  out  for  his  breakfast. 

It  was  but  a  few  days  after  the  funeral  of  his  father  and 
mother  that  Tony  went  to  visit  his  young  friends,  the  news- 
boys. He  was  lionized  as  soon  as  the  boys  saw  him.  The 
crowd  was  waiting  for  the  noon  edition,  and  Skinny  was 
the  first  to  see  him.  "Hello,  Tony,"  he  said,  running  towards 
him.     "Joe!"  he  shouted,  "Joe!    Here's  Tony  Murphy." 

Joe  at  the  time  was  shooting  craps  a  little  further  up  the 
alley,  but  as  soon  as  he  knew  the  result  of  the  cast  of  the  dice, 
he  came  running  forward,  followed  by  the  "push." 

"How  are  you,  Tony?  We  are  very  glad  to  see  you.  My! 
but  you're  swell !"  Tony  was  dressed  in  his  best.  Pickles 
stroked  Tony's  overcoat  down  the  back,  and  felt  the  velvet  col- 
lar.    "Dat's  de  goods,"  he  said,  admiringly. 

"Look  at  his  boots,"  said  Rocco ;  "I'm  going  to  get  a  pair 
like  dem  if  ever  I  can  raise  de  price." 

Tony  felt  very  much  flattered  at  the  lavish  praise  they  were 
bestowing  on  his  outfit. 

"How's  your  friend,  Mr.  Scully?"  inquired  Joe;  "dat's  a 
fine   fellow." 

Tony's  lips  quivered  as  he  told  them  that  Mr.  Scully  had 
gone  away,  and  nobody  knew  where. 


A  SUNSHINY  MORNING   WITH  A  CLOUDY  AFTERNOON.       127 

"Oh,  yes!  dat's  de  bloke  dat  rode  in  de  carriage  wid  you," 
said  Pickles ;  "he's  all  right." 

"When  are  you  coming  back  to  work  again?"  inquired 
Skinny. 

"I  don't  know,"  was  Tony's  answer. 

"Well,  when  you  do,"  said  Joe,  "we'll  see  you  get  a  square 
deal;  won't  we,  fellows?"  There  was  a  general  acclaim  from 
the  rest  of  the  urchins  that  he  would.  A  man  stood  with  a 
basket  of  fruit  on  the  corner. 

"Come  on,  Tony,"  said  Joe;  "I'm  going  to  buy  you  some- 
thing." 

"Me,  too,"  said  Skinny. 

"I'm  in  dis,"   said   Pickles. 

They  went  towards  the  seller  of  fruits,  and  before  Tony 
got  through  his  overcoat  pockets  were  full  of  oranges,  apples, 
bananas,  and  candy.  The  boys  vied  with  one  another  in 
their  desire  to  do  the  right  thing  with  their  young  friend, 
whose  misfortune  had  opened  their  hearts  to  him. 

The  noon  edition  being  nearly  ready  for  distribution,  the 
boys  shouted  their  farewell  to  Tony,  and  rushed  off  to  furnish 
Chicago  citizens  with  the  latest  news — some  advice  as  to  the 
coming  spring  election,  full  accounts  of  the  latest  scandals  in 
society,  and  a  record  of  the  doings  in  the  police  courts. 

Tony  arrived  home  in  time  for  dinner,  and  divided  his 
fruit  and  candy  with  the  O'Brien  children,  who  were  home 
during  the  noon  recess.  They  listened  attentively  while  he 
told  them  how  kind  the  boys  were  to  him,  and  how  they  had 
admired  his  clothes,  especially  his  overcoat  and  boots.  Mrs. 
O'Brien  felt  very  much  pleased  at  the  boy's  recital,  and  was 
as  attentive  a  listener  as  any  of  her  children. 

Tony  displayed  great  enthusiasm  when  he  dwelt  on  the 
promises  which  Joe,  Skinny,  Pickles,  Rocco,  and  the  rest  of  the 
newsies  had  made  him ;  he  was  sure  they  would  let  him  stand 
on  a  good  corner,  down  town,  and  that  they  wouldn't  let  any 
of  the  kids  put  on  him. 

"That's  good,"  said  Patsy;  "I  wish  mother  would  let  me 
stay  away  from  school — I'd  go  down  town,  too.     What  can 


128      A  SUNSHINY   MORNING   WITH   A   CLOUDY   AFTERNOON. 

a  fellow  do  in  a  couple  of  hours  in  the  evening,  just  dis- 
tributing a  few  papers?" 

"Come,"  said  his  mother,  "hurry  up!  you'll  be  late  for 
school."  This  ended  the  conversation,  and  as  soon  as  her 
youngsters  had  departed,  and  she  had  the  dishes  cleared  away, 
she  made  the  announcement  to  Tony  that  they  were  going  to 
make  a  call ;  for  him  to  wash  his  face  and  hands,  and  by 
that  time  she  would  be  ready  to  go. 

Arriving  at  Mrs.  Great's,  they  found  Father  Nolan  there 
in  advance  of  them. 

The  good  lady  received  them  cordially,  shook  hands  with 
Mrs.  O'Brien,  and  drew  Tony  down  to  her  and  kissed  him. 

"He's  a  fine,  manly  little  fellow,"  she  said,  addressing  Fa- 
ther Nolan. 

"How  old  is  he,  Mrs.  O'Brien?" 

"He  is  gone  ten,  ma'am." 

"I  understand  he's  been  selling  newspapers?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"I  suppose  he  hasn't  had  much  schooling?"  addressing 
Father  Nolan. 

"No,  I  understand  he  hasn't." 

"Well,  Tony,  you  must  go  to  school,  and  be  a  good  boy, 
and  learn  your  lessons." 

Tony  felt  as  if  his  dream  of  future  greatness  as  a  dis- 
penser of  news,  and  his  bright  prospects  in  the  commercial 
world,  were  being  taken  from  him.  His  down-town  reception 
in  the  morning  had  aggravated  the  case. 

Father  Nolan,  seeing  the  boy's  reluctance,  as  portrayed  by 
his  countenance,  took  up  the  argument.  "Yes.  Tony,  you 
must  come  to  school ;  the  boy  or  man  nowadays  tnat  has  no 
education  never  amounts  to  anything." 

Tony  didn't  agree  with  him.  though  he  remained  silent.  He 
knew  different.  He  thought  of  Joe,  Pickles,  Skinny,  and 
Rocco,  all  important  personages,  in  his  estimation. 

It  was  decided,  however,  that  Tony  should  go  to  school. 
"I  should  think  you'd  like  to  go  to  school  with  your  little 
comrades,  Mrs.  O'Brien's  children,"  said  Mrs.  Great,  stroking 


A  SUNSHINY   MORNING   WITH   A  CLOUDY  AFTERNOON       129 

him  down.  "You  know  you  are  too  young  to  go  out  working. 
Li  two  or  three  years,  if  you're  attentive  at  school,  Father 
Nolan  'and  myself  may  be  able  to  get  you  a  nice  place."  Tony 
couldn't  see  it  that  way. 

"And  I'm  sure,"  Mrs.  Great  said,  continuing,  "Father  Nolan 
will  be  very  good  to  you." 

Not  having  the  courage  for  open  rebellion,  Tony  remained 
silent. 

"Well,  Mrs.  O'Brien,  you  will  see  that  he  starts  out  with  the 
rest  of  the  children  in  the  morning.  Father  Nolan,  you  will 
see  to  it  that  he  gets  whatever  books  he  may  require.  Send  the 
bill  to  me,  and  also  for  his  school  fees,  and  I  want  you  to  re- 
port occasionally  as  to  how  he  is  getting  on.  I  see  he  is  dressed 
nicely,"  said  Mrs.  Great,  continuing,  as  she  looked  over  the 
boy's  clothing. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  promised  she'd  see  that  he  attended  school. 

"You'll  probably  be  at  the  school  in  the  morning,  Father,  to 
meet  him?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Great,  "I  will  keep  a  lookout 
for  him." 

"Now,  be  a  good  boy  and  learn  your  lessons,"  said  Mrs. 
Great.  "Christmas  will  soon  be  here,  and  if  I  hear  a  good  re- 
port about  you,  I'll  see  if  I  can't  send  you  a  nice  present.  Now, 
good-bye,  and  God  bless  you,"  kissing  him. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  and  Tony  took  their  departure,  Tony  with  a 
sad  heart.  The  brilliant  prospects  of  the  morning  had  been 
blasted  in  the  afternoon ;  his  liberty  had  been  menaced.  His 
thoughts  on  his  way  home  were,  what  would  Joe,  Pickles, 
Skinny  and  Rocco  think  of  him  after  the  splendid  opportuni- 
ties they  had  provided  for  him,  and  which  now  must  go  for 
naught. 


Chapter  XVI 

WORKING  A  SUCKER. 

Mr.  Monroe  (as  proved  to  be  his  name)  had  no  sooner  got 
beyond  the  curtain  than  he  was  met  by  Miss  Sunlight,  who  ex- 
tended her  hand. 

"Let  me  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  your  very  warm  appre- 
ciation of  my  humble  effort  to  please.  Won't  you  sit  down?" 
she  said,  giving  Mr.  Monroe  at  the  same  time  one  of  her  most 
alluring  smiles. 

Monroe  took  a  survey  of  the  place,  and  hesitated  for  a  mo- 
ment before  accepting  the  young  soprano's  invitation. 

He  saw  seated  at  a  table  the  veteran  with  the  squeaky  voice, 
with  another  young  woman  and  the  two  miners.  The  one  of 
the  squeaky  voice  was  smoking  a  cigarette.  Two  bottles  stood 
on  the  table.  They  had  been  drinking  beer ;  the  supply,  how- 
ever, seemed  to  be  exhausted,  as  the  younger  of  the  two  women 
was  pressing  one  of  the  miners  to  order  two  bottles  more. 

At  another  table  sat  a  well-dressed  man  with  a  sparsely- 
dressed  woman. 

Miss  Le  Blanck  and  another  girl  had  taken  their  position  at 
the  curtain  as  soon  as  Monroe  had  got  in. 

Mr.  Monroe's  hesitancy  in  sitting  was  observed  by  Miss 
Sunlight,  who  smilingly  took  him  by  the  hand  and,  leading  him 
to  the  farther  side  of  the  room,  where  was  an  unoccupied  table 
with  two  chairs,  placed  him  so  that  his  back  would  be  turned 
to  the  rest  of  those  present.  She  sat  down  close  beside  him. 
This  arrangement  afforded  him  some  relief  from  a  too  close 
association  with  the  assembled  company.  The  waiter,  who  had 
followed  him  in,  stood  at  attention.  Miss  Sunlight  looked  at 
Mr.  Monroe,  and  then  at  the  waiter. 

"What  will  you  drink,  miss  ?"  said  Monroe. 

"I  don't  feel  in  very  good  spirits  tonight,"  she  said,  with  a 
little  sigh.  "I  would  like  some  wine,  if  I  take  anything,  but 
what  would  you  prefer?" 

130 


WORKING  A  SUCKER  131 

"I  generally  take  whiskey,  but  I  can  take  wine.  Timothy, 
you  know,  says  'Use  a  little  for  thy  stomach's  sake.'  '"' 

Miss  Sunlight  smiled  at  this  apt  quotation,  at  the  same  time 
nodding  to  the  waiter,  who  retired,  and  after  a  few  moments 
returned  with  a  bottle  of  wine  and  two  glasses.  Monroe  put 
his  first  finger  into  his  vest  pocket  and  pulling  out  his  roll  of 
bills,  asked,  "How  much?" 

"Two-fifty,  please." 

Monroe  gave  him  a  two-dollar  bill  and  a  fifty-cent  piece, 
which  he  found  in  his  trousers  pocket.  The  waiter  filled  the 
glasses.  Miss  Sunlight  raised  hers  and,  touching  his  with  it, 
remarking,  "Here  is  to  our  better  acquaintance." 

Monroe  bowed  his  head  in  acknowledgment  as  they  both 
emptied  their  glasses, 

"You  live  in  Denver,  I  suppose?"  remarked  Miss  Sunlight, 
in  an  off-hand  manner. 

"No,  I  am  just  here  on  business." 

"Do  you  like  Denver?    I  don't  think  much  of  it." 

"Why  don't  you,  miss?    Denver  is  a  very  lively  city." 

"I  prefer  the  East.    You  see  I  am  only  here  for  my  health." 

"I  don't  think  there  is  anything  very  serious  ails  you,"  re- 
plied Monroe,  laughing. 

"Well,  you  see,  I  am  used  to  New  York,  Boston  and  Phila- 
delphia, where  I  filled  important  engagements  at  the  leading 
vaudeville  houses,  and  I  had  to  work  so  hard  in  responding  to 
so  many  encores,  that  I  was  quite  run  down ;  so  my  physician 
told  me  that  a  rest  was  necessary,  and  suggested  that  I  go 
West  for  a  time." 

"It  strikes  me  you  won't  get  much  rest  here." 

"That's  so.  Let  me  fill  your  glass.  Well,  it's  true  I  won't 
have  much  leisure,  but  the  way  it  happened  was  this:  The 
manager  must  have  heard  of  my  arrival  in  Denver;  probably 
read  of  it  in  the  papers,  and,  finding  me  at  my  hotel,  offered 
me  a  very  large  salary  to  fill  a  brief  engagement,  and  as  I  am 
so  dearly  in  love  with  my  profession,  I  accepted." 

"Indeed,  I  would  not  think  the  proprietor  of  this  ranch  could 
pay  very  large  salaries,"  looking  around  the  place. 

"Ah,  there  is  my  friend,  Madam  Van  Dingel,"  as  a  lady  ap- 


132  WORKING  A  SUCKER 

proached.  She  was  dressed  in  street  costume,  with  a  very  large 
hat,  with  two  immense  ostrich  feathers  hanging  from  it. 

Miss  SunHght  invited  her  to  come  and  take  a  glass  of  wine. 
•'Madam  Van  Dingel,  my  gentleman  friend,"  not  having 
learned  his  name,  she  could  not  give  a  more  specific  introduc- 
tion. Madam  Van  Dingel  and  the  gentleman  bowed.  Miss 
Sunlight  ordered  the  waiter,  who  was  in  attendance,  to  bring 
another  glass,  the  glasses  were  filled  and  they  all  drank. 

"How  are  you  getting  on,  Lulu?"  inquired  the  madam. 

"Don't  you  see  I  am  doing  well  ?"  looking  smilingly  at  Mr. 
Monroe,  who  by  this  time  was  feeling  the  effects  of  the  mixed 
drinks.    "My  friend  tonight,  however,  is  not  very  sociable." 

"Oh,  well,  he'll  warm  up  after  a  while,"  said  the  madam, 
jokingly,  looking  at  Monroe,  who  protested  he  was  all  right — 
just  got  a  little  hiccough,  that  was  all. 

Miss  Sunlight  gently  stroked  him  down  the  cheek,  saying, 
"No,  you're  not.  dear.  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  enjoying  my 
company,"  at  the  same  time  laying  her  head  close  to  his  vest 
and  looking  right  up  into  his  face. 

He  was  about  to  kiss  her,  when  she  pulled  her  head  rapidly 
away,  laughing. 

Monroe  took  up  the  bottle  to  fill  the  glasses,  but  found  it 
empty. 

Miss  Sunlight  rang  the  bell  and  told  the  waiter  on  his  ar- 
rival that  her  friend  wanted  another  bottle  of  wine,  which  was 
duly  brought  and  paid  for.  Miss  Sunlight  had  a  wordy  alter- 
cation with  the  waiter  about  a  check. 

"I  thought  T  gave  it  to  you." 

"No,  you  did  not !    Give  them  both  to  me  now !" 

The  waiter  handed  her  two  little  cards,  which  she  proceeded 
to  place  in  her  pink  stockings,  the  top  of  which  came  far  above 
her  knee — this  in  full  view"  of  Monroe,  who  laughed  heartily, 
as  he  remarked  to  Madam  Van  Dingel  "She  has  good  under- 
standings." 

Miss  Sunlight  tapped  him  on  the  cheek  as  if  in  remonstrance. 

The  glasses  were  filled.  Miss  Sunlight  lifted  her  glass  and. 
looking" bewitch ingly  at  Monroe,  said,  "May  the  better  we  be- 
come acquainted,  the  closer  we  get  together." 


WORKING  A  SUCKER  133 

"Lulu,"  said  the  madam  in  a  tone  of  reproof. 

Monroe  laughed  heartily  and  said  he  hoped  so. 

One  of  the  young  ladies  approached  Miss  Sunlight  and  told 
her  that  after  Miss  Sturtevant  had  done,  she  was  next. 

"You  tell  the  stage  manager  I  am  through  for  the  night; 
that  I  am  with  an  old  friend,  who  is  visiting  me,  and  I  am 
going  to  stay  with  him ;  but  take  a  drink,  Georgie."  Georgie's 
glass  was  filled. 

"Why  don't  you  offer  the  other  girls  a  drink?"  said  Monroe, 
the  chill  seeming  to  have  left  him, 

"Sure !  Come,  girls,  my  friend  from  the  Golden  West  wants 
you  to  take  a  drink  with  him," 

The  bottle  proving  shy,  Monroe  told  Lulu  to  order  a  couple 
more,  which  she  promptly  did.  When  the  waiter  had  received 
payment,  she  extended  her  hand  for  the  two  little  cards,  and 
as  she  lifted  her  skirt  to  place  them  in  her  stocking,  Mr.  Mon- 
roe peered  in  the  direction  in  which  she  was  placing  them, 
laughing  loudly  in  a  hilarious  mood,  now  fast  bordering  on 
intoxication. 

The  girls  joined  him  in  his  laughter,  as  if  it  was  very  funny. 

The  two  bottles,  with  the  additional  consumers,  were  soon 
emptied,  and  another  two  ordered, 

Monroe  by  this  time  entered  fully  into  the  enjoyment 
or,  as  Madam  Van  Dingel  had  predicted  earlier  in  the  evening, 
had  "warmed  up."  Me  joked  with  the  girls  who  flocked  around 
his  chair,  told  them  they  were  a  pretty  lively  bunch,  but  Lulu 
was  the  girl  for  him. 

More  wine  was  ordered  and  drank.  Monroe's  roll,  which 
he  had  in  his  vest  pocket,  was  nearly  exhausted.  He  gave  out 
the  last  four  dollars  he  had  in  bills,  and,  fishing  a  quantity  of 
silver  out  of  one  of  his  trousers  pockets,  threw  it  on  the  table. 
Miss  Sunlight  counted  out  a  dollar,  which  she  handed  to  the 
waiter,  and  shoved  the  remainder  into  Monroe's  vest  pocket. 

When  the  wine  was  about  drank,  the  girls  fell  back,  think- 
ing there  was  no  more  money  for  wine  in  sight,  some  of  them 
taking  their  station  at  the  curtain  in  the  hope  of  recognizing 
a  prospective  "flat"  who  would  be  easy  money. 

Madam  Van  Dingel  retired  to  a  seat  at  the  other  end  of  the 


134  WORKING  A  SUCKER 

room,  remarking  as  she  left,  "Two  is  company,  three  is  none," 
a  discovery  she  had  not  made  until  she  surmised  Monroe's  wad 
was  exhausted. 

Miss  SunHght  inquired,  "What  time  is  it?"  pulHng  Monroe's 
watch  from  his  fob  pocket  to  enUghten  herself. 

"Dear  me !"  she  exclaimed,  "I  didn't  think  it  was  so  late. 
Don't  you  think,  dear,,  it's  about  time  you  were  going?  Will 
you  be  around  tomorrow  night  ?    I  will  be  so  glad  to  see  you." 

"We'll  have  another  couple  of  bottles  before  I  go,"  he  said. 

Lulu  offered  no  objections,  but  rang  the  bell,  the  wine  was 
brought  and  laid  on  the  table.  Miss  Sunlight  gave  a  significant 
glance  at  the  waiter,  who  showed  no  intention  to  pull  the  corks. 

Monroe,  now  thoroughly  intoxicated,  wanted  to  know  why 
he  didn't  fill  up  the  glasses. 

Miss  Sunlight,  in  the  sweetest  manner  possible,  told  Mr. 
Monroe,  "He  wants  pay  for  it,  dear." 

Monroe  began  to  get  angry.  He  wanted  to  know  of  the 
waiter  if  he  thought  he  was  a  beat  that  would  order  wine  with- 
out being  able  to  pay  for  it. 

With  this  he  placed  his  hand  down  in  his  inside  vest  pocket 
and  pulled  out  a  leather  case,  in  which  was  a  large  amount  of 
bills  of  diflerent  denominations.  Miss  Lulu  took  the  oppor- 
tunity to  peep  into  it.  She  told  the  girls  afterward  that  there 
was  a  fortune  in  it. 

Monroe  fumbled  with  the  bills  for  a  moment,  and  at  last  ex- 
tracted a  twenty. 

The  waiter,  at  the  first  glance  at  the  pocketbook,  commenced 
pulling  the  corks. 

Monroe  shoved  his  pocketbook  down  in  the  pocket  he  had 
taken  it  from,  placing  the  change  of  his  twenty  in  his  vest 
pocket.  He  was  angry.  Miss  Sunlight  commenced  to  coax 
him,  got  up  and  sat  in  his  lap,  stroked  his  whiskers,  and  put 
her  arms  around  his  neck,  and,  placing  her  legs  straight  out, 
one  across  the  other,  said: 

"Now  I'm  sitting  on  your  lap,  you  mustn't  be  rude."  This 
was  said  only  to  call  his  attention  to  the  opportunity  offered  to 
be  very  rude. 

Monroe,  at  this  time,  was  too  full  to  be  able  to  be  rude. 


WORKING  A  SUCKER  135 

The  young  ladies,  recognizing  that  there  was  something 
doi  ig,  gathered  around,  at  Lulu's  invitation,  to  have  some  more 
wine. 

They  all  laughed  at  seeing  Lulu  sitting  on  Mr,  Monroe's  lap, 
as  if  it  was  a  good  joke. 

Miss  Lulu  said :  "He  is  my  friend,  and  I  don't  care  what  you 
think.     Anything  that  pleases  him,  pleases  me." 

Whether  it  was  the  effect  of  too  much  wine  on  Monroe's 
head  or  the  weight  of  Miss  Sunlight's  one  hundred  and  sixty 
pounds  on  his  lap  that  was  too  much  for  him,  we  never 
learned,  nor  could  Mr.  Monroe  remember,  but  he  decided  to 
go  home. 

Miss  Sunlight  chided  him.  "It  was  quite  early,  just  when 
they  were  beginning  to  enjoy  themselves."  All  the  girls  agreed 
with  her,  but  Monroe  was  obdurate. 

"I  am  full,"  he  said,  "and  am  going  home,  and  that's  all 
there  is  to  it." 

Miss  Lulu  clung  to  his  neck  and  kissed  him.  He  used  force 
and  pushed  her  off  his  lap.  She  had  had  a  good  share  of  the 
wine,  and  fell  squat  on  the  floor.  Monroe  assisted  her  up  and 
apologized  as  best  he  could  imder  the  conditions. 

He  turned  and  walked  towards  the  curtain.  Some  of  the 
girls,  placing  themselves  before  him,  wanted  to  know  what 
was  his  hurrv.    He  brushed  them  aside. 

Mike  Scully,  who  had  seen  the  number  of  bottles  that  had 
been  taken  behind  the  stage,  surmised  correctly  that  the  man 
who  had  sat  at  the  same  table  with  him  earlier  in  the  evening 
was  paying  for  it,  thought  to  himself: 

"I  will  si:av  and  see  it  out."  He  had  nothing  else  to  do  any- 
how ;  his  curiosity  was  aroused ;  besides,  he  was  passing  the 
time. 

The  quantity  of  wine  that  had  been  consumed  behind  the 
curtain  began  to  show  on  the  prima  donnas  when  they  came  to 
perform  their  different  stunts. 

The  woman  with  the  squeaky  voice  could  not  remember  the 
words  of  her  song,  to  the  annoyance  of  the  fellow  with  the  big 
drum,  who  couldn't  keep  in  tune.  When  she  commenced  to 
dance,  the  stage  seemed  a  great  deal  too  small  for  her ;  on  two 


136  WORKING  A  SUCKER 

occasions,  while  trying  to  high  kick,  she  nearly  landed  amongst 
the  audience,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  young  men  who  occu- 
pied the  front  seats.  While  the  Bowery  girl  became  so  tough, 
that  they  wouldn't  allow  such  things  on  the  Bowery.  Her  voice 
sounded  like  a  foghorn  that  had  a  very  bad  cold. 

As  Mr.  Monroe  emerged  from  the  green  room,  he  straight- 
ened himself  up,  with  an  effort,  looking  right  ahead  as  he 
passed  Scully,  Mike  thought  he  heard  him  muttering  some- 
thing to  himself,  which  soimded  very  much  like  "damned  old 
fool." 

Before  he  had  time  to  reach  the  exit  of  the  store,  Miss 
Lulu's  face  appeared  at  the  curtain  and,  in  an  excited  manner, 
beckoned  to  two  men  who  sat  close  against  the  wall,  a  few 
seats  from  where  she  was  standing. 

One  of  them  rose  and  went  toward  her.  She  dropped  the 
curtain  behind  him,  but  not  to  exceed  ten  seconds  the  man 
whom  she  had  summoned  hurried  out,  beckoning  the  other  fel- 
low to  follow  him. 

Scully's  suspicions  being  aroused,  he  decided  to  follow 
the  men. 

Monroe,  on  leaving  the  concert  hall,  turned  to  the  right  and 
Walked  leisurely  up  the  street.  It  required  some  effort  on  his 
part  to  preserve  his  equilibrium. 

He  had  gone  about  forty  feet  when  the  two  men,  whom 
Scully  had  noticed  leaving,  reached  the  door.  They  looked 
into  the  street  to  see  what  direction  Monroe  had  taken,  and, 
observing  him  but  a  little  distance  away,  they  followed. 

Scully  went  in  the  same  direction,  keeping  well  within  the 
shadow  of  the  buildings,  some  thirty  feet  behind.  The  two 
men  beg'an  to  gradually  close  up  the  distance  between  them- 
selves and  Monroe,  but,  intent  on  their  purpose,  and  from  the 
fact  of  the  street  being  dark,  they  had  not  observed  that  they, 
in  turn,  were  followed.  Scully,  still  well  within  the  shadow 
of  the  buildings,  had  closed  up  the  gap  somewhat  between 
himself  and  the  two  men. 

Monroe  walked  on  until  he  reached  an  alley,  and,  not  notic- 
ing the  drop  from  the  sidewalk  to  the  pavement,  stumbled. 

Immediately  the  two  men  pounced  upon  him,  one  striking 


"You  Arr  AIy  Prisoxkr' 


THE  GREAT  CLEVELAND  STORE  137 

him  a  vi  ilent  blow  on  the  back  of  the  head.  He  fell  fiat  on  his 
face,  and  the  two  stooped  over  him. 

Mike  Scullv  rushed  towards  them,  shouting:  "Hello!  what 
are  you  fellows  up  to?" 

They  both  turned  on  him,  swearing  that  if  he  didn't  go  on 
about  his  business,  they  would  do  him  up. 

Scully's  blood  was  aroused.  He  was  close  to  the  fellow  who 
had  struck  Monroe,  and  who  now  turned  and  was  menacing 
him  with  the  weapon  he  had  in  his  hand. 

Mike,  knowing  there  was  no  use  of  parleying,  placed  a  left 
hook  right  under  the  fellow's  chin  and  down  he  went,  over  the 
prostrate  form  of  Monroe. 

The  other  robber  held  a  gun  in  his  right  hand.  Scully 
grabbed  him  by  the  wrist  with  his  right  hand,  so  preventing 
him  from  getting  his  revolver  into  play ;  the  man  struggled 
fiercely  until  Mike  struck  him  a  blow  straight  between  the  eyes. 

There  was  a  sound  of  hurrying  footsteps  coming  towards 
them.  Scully  attempted  to  wrest  the  gun  from  him.  In  doing 
so  it  went  off. 

The  robber,  seeing  the  probability  of  being  captured,  used 
every  effort  to  break  loose  from  Scully's  grasp,  which  he  ulti- 
mately did,  by  leaving  the  revolver  in  Mike's  hand.  He  then 
ran  up  the  alley,  followed  by  his  mate,  just  as  a  policeman 
rushed  forward,  and,  grabbing  Scully  by  the  collar  of  his  coat 
shouted : 

"You  are  my  prisoner,"  pointing  his  revolver  at  Mike's  head. 


Chapter  XVU 

the  great  cleveland  store. 

The  great  Cleveland  Store  had  a  successful  holiday  season, 
and  the  proprietor  invited  the  managing  directors  to  dine  with 
him  on  the  third  day  of  January,  so  that  he  might  show  his  ap- 
preciation of  their  valuable  services  and  at  the  same  time  talk 
business.  A  few  of  the  heads  of  departments  had  also  been 
invited.    Miss  Mary  Vann,  of  the  millinery,  amongst  others. 


138  THE  GREAT  CLEVELAND  STORE 

The  department  of  which  Miss  Vann  was  the  head  was  a 
special  feature  of  the  great  establishment.  Miss  Vann  had 
been  some  years  in  their  employ,  and  had  made  her  branch  of 
the  business  a  great  success,  so  much  so,  that  both  the  propri- 
etor and  manager  dreaded  the  idea  of  Miss  Vann  going  to  a 
rival  concern  by  the  name  of  Prairie,  Schleicht  and  Rosenberg, 
who,  it  was  understood,  had  offered  her  an  inducement. 

At  the  luncheon  that  had  been  provided,  the  proprietor  paid 
much  attention  to  his  dear  Mary,  as  he  called  her,  who  sat  on 
his  left.  He  was  telling  her  confidential  things  that  made  her 
laugh,  whatever  it  was. 

None  of  the  other  lady  heads  of  the  departments  were  jeal- 
ous of  Mary ;  strange  to  relate,  they  all  voted  her  a  brick.  She 
would  take  no  back  sauce  from  anyone,  and  even  had  the  cour- 
age to  come  to  the  defense  of  some  of  the  other  lady  heads  of 
departments  when  they  needed  support  to  keep  them  in  their 
places.  She  had  even  eased  her  mind,  as  she  called  it,  to  the 
manager  on  one  occasion  in  the  presence  of  many  of  the  em- 
ployees, the  result  of  which  was  a  raise  in  Mary's  salary,  to 
smooth  her  ruffled  temper. 

After  luncheon  was  over,  the  first  and  most  important  mat- 
ter considered  was  the  reduction  of  the  holiday  staff.  Mr. 
Jacob  Shapiro,  the  manager,  eased  the  mind  of  the  proprietor 
Jt)y  telling  him  that  had  been  partly  attended  to;  he  had  let  a 
number  go. 

The  next  subject  was  the  sale  of  the  surplus  stock ;  the  time 
had  arrived  for  the  great  annual  slaughter  sale. 

"I  hope  you  will  see  to  the  purchase  of  enough  suitable 
goods  for  this  sale,  Mr.  Shapiro.  Now,  as  the  holiday  season 
is  over  and  we  have  the  cash,  you  should  get  some  very  cheap 
lines." 

"I  understand,"  remarked  one  of  those  present,  "the  Prairie 
people  are  getting  ready  for  a  fire  sale.  There  was  a  little 
store  at  Lemont  which  had  a  blaze  the  other  night.  There  was 
a  couple  of  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  goods  damaged  by  water, 
the  Prairie  people  bought  them,  and,  I  have  it  from  a  friend 
in  the  place,  that  they  are  going  to  advertise  a  three  hundred 
thousand  dollar  fire  sale." 


THE  GREAT  CLEVELAND  STORE  139 

"If  that's  SO.  Mr.  Shapiro,  you  will  not  have  to;  let  the  grass 
grow  under  your  feet,"  was  the  proprietor's  suggestion,  "nor 
let  the  flowers  wither  on  your  hats,  my  dear  Mary,"  he  said, 
smiling,  to  Miss  Vann,  who  nodded  her  appreciation  of  the 
joke. 

Mr.  Shapiro  promised  to  see  to  it  that  the  Prairie  people 
would  not  steal  a  march  on  him. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Shapiro  slaughtered  all  the  surplus 
help  possible,  and  then  commenced  preparation  for  the  great 
slaughter  sale  of  surplus  stock  by  sending  out  the  entire  staff 
of  buyers,  to  visit  the  auction  and  commission  houses  for  bar- 
gains of  any  old  kind,  so  that  the  prices  were  right. 

The  following  day  there  appeared  in  the  papers  page  adver- 
tisements of  the  great  slaughter  sale  of  surplus  stock  and  goods 
left  over  at  the  great  Cleveland  Store,  the  front  of  which  had 
already  been  decorated  with  large  canvas  signs  announcing 
the  glad  tidings  to  a  credulous  public,  who  flocked  thither  in 
great  numbers. 

The  slaughter  sale  was  a  rushing  affair,  to  which  Misses 
Florence  Burdett,  Mary  Jones,  and  Genevieve  Brown  con- 
tributed their  share  by  trotting  backward  and  forward  to  the 
incessant  tune  of  "Cash !"  "Cash !"  "Cash !"  "Cash  here !"  and 
the  urgent  pressing  of  the  floor-walker,  the  clapping  of  whose 
hands  was  the  signal  for  them  to  hurry  up. 

When  the  slaughter  sale  was  over,  provision  had  to  be  made 
for  the  regular  trade.  A  slight  reorganization  of  the  staff  had 
to  be  made.  Miss  Florence  Burdett,  thanks  to  her  good  looks 
and  neat  attire,  was  assigned  to  the  millinery  department,  at 
an  increased  salary  of  fifty  cents  per  week,  making  two-fifty 
in  all.  Miss  Genevieve  Brown  got  a  position  in  the  gents'  fur- 
nishings, and  Mary  Jones  in  the  hardware.  The  three  girls, 
when  they  met  at  lunch  that  day  of  their  promotion,  spoke  of 
their  good  luck.  IVIargy,  who  was  present,  came  toward  them 
and  expressed  her  pleasure,  "Didn't  I  tell  you  so?" 

There  was  but  a  scant  attendance  at  the  lunch  room,  all 
the  surplus  help,  with  few  exceptions,  had  been  cleared  out, 
and,  what  was  a  great  consolation  to  Margy, nearly  all  those  who 
were  hostile  to  her  had  got  the  "grand  bounce,"  as  she  called  it. 


140  THE  GREAT  CLEVELAND  STORE 

Miss  Burdett's  advent  to  the  millinery  department  was  ow- 
ing to  the  desire  of  Miss  Vann,  who,  with  an  eye  to  business, 
could  utilize  Florence's  handsome  face  in  selling  hats.  Ladies, 
as  is  well  known,  are  very  critical  as  to  their  headgear.  Miss 
Vann,  after  persuading  some  lady  who  was  in  doubt  as  to 
whether  a  hat  would  become  her  or  not,  would  call  Florence. 

"Come,  try  this  on.  Miss  Burdett."  She  would  arrange  the 
hat  in  a  becoming  manner  on  Miss  Burdett's  well-formed  head, 
whose  hair  was  tastily  arranged  and  whose  handsome  face  was 
a  fit  model  for  an  artist.  It  was  like  baiting  an  amateur,  who 
could  be  led  to  pay  a  very  high  price  for  a  very  poor  picture 
because  it  was  in  a  costly  frame. 

Miss  Burdett,  totally  innocent  of  guile,  was  often  an  accom- 
plice to  Miss  Vann's  tricks  in  trade. 

"You  stick  to  me,  Miss  Burdett,"  she  jokingly  said  one  day 
after  unloading  a  costly  hat  on  a  middle-aged  dame,  "and  I'll 
make  a  man  of  you." 

Florence  was  impressed  with  Miss  Vann's  vivacious  manner, 
and  began  to  like  her.  There  was  another  lady  help  to  Miss 
Vann  who  was  also  nice  to  her,  so  she  began  to  feel  at  home. 

One  da^  Miss  Brown  had  been  sent  from  the  gents'  furnish- 
ings to  the  floor  on  which  the  millinery  department  was  lo- 
cated. The  two  girls  met  and  were  caught  gossiping  for  a 
moment  (as  was  natural)  by  Mr.  Morris  Cohan,  the  floor- 
walker, who,  just  to  show  his  authority,  spoke  fiercely  to  them. 
Miss  Brown  walked  away,  holding  her  head  down  as  if  she  had 
been  caught  in  some  criminal  act.  Miss  Burdett,  very  much 
confused  and  red  in  the  face,  walked  toward  the  millinery 
cases. 

Miss  Vann,  who  was  trying  a  hat  on  a  lady  at  the  time,  had 
noticed  the  episode.  "Excuse  me,  madam,"  she  said,  and, 
walking  over  to  where  the  floor-walker  stood,  inquired  of  him, 
"What's  the  trouble?" 

"Nothing,"  was  his  answer. 

"Yes,  there  was.  What  were  you  saying  to  my  help?" 
Florence,  who  heard  the  controversy,  felt  very  much  embar- 
rassed. 

"You're  a  little  too  gay,  Mr.  Cohan,"  continued  Miss  Vann. 


THE  GREAT  CLEVELAND  STORE  141 

"Come  here,  Miss  Burdett."  Florence  went  trembling  towards 
them,  thinking  she  was  due  for  a  censure,  at  least. 

"Florence,  you  pay  no  attention  to  that  fellow;  you  just 
mind  me."  With  this  recommendation  to  her  understudy,  she 
went  back  to  attend  to  her  customer. 

Mr.  Morris  Cohan  went  to  the  other  end  of  the  floor,  biting 
his  lips. 

Florence  was  surprised  at  what  she  thought  an  assumption 
of  authority  on  the  part  of  Miss  Vann,  believing,  from  her 
three  weeks'  experience  in  the  store,  that  the  floor-walker  was 
a  mighty  man,  who  held  the  fate  of  the  girls  in  the  hollow  of 
his  hand.  And  so  he  does,  in  many  cases,  where  he  knows  a 
poor,  friendless  girl  has  to  humiliate  herself — yes.  often  de- 
grade herself — to  keep  in  his  good  graces. 

Miss  Vann  had  once  been  a  cash  girl  herself,  and  had  suf- 
fered the  indignities  imposed  on  many  of  the  poorer  girls  who 
held  similar  positions. 

The  next  day,  when  the  three  girls,  who  had  become  fast 
friends,  met  at  lunch  time,  Miss  Brown,  who  was  still  anxious 
over  the  matter,  fearing  that  she  had  got-  Florence  into  trouble, 
was  much  relieved  on  hearing  Florence's  recital  of  the  affair. 

"Good  for  her !"  exclaimed  Genevieve ;  "it's  well  for  the 
girls  here  to  have  some  one  to  stick  up  for  them.  Some  of 
those  young  snipes  on  the  floor  are  a  great  deal  too  fresh,  any 
way." 

"Margy !  Margy,"  said  a  voice  from  the  farther  end  of  the 
lunch  room,  "I  suppose  vou're  going  to  the  ball  on  the  twentv- 
fourth?" 

"You  bet ;  wouldn't  miss  it  for  anything." 

"I  suppose  your  'steady'  will  be  there?" 

"Yes,  he  is  one  of  the  managers,"  replied  Margy,  with  an  air 
of  pride. 

"I  understand  it  will  be  very  swell,"  observed  a  third. 

"De  best  of  the  whole  season,"  was  Margy's  answer.  "Dey've 
engaged  Connor's  band  already." 

"I'm  going  to  tackle  my  fellow  to  take  me,"  said  a  fourth. 

"Why,  half  the  store  will  be  there,"  said  the  first  speaker, 
who  had  made  the  inquiry  as  to  Margy's  going. 


142  THE  GREAT   CLEVELAND  STORE 

The  three  girls  became  interested  listeners. 

During  the  next  week  most  of  the  conversation  in  the  lunch 
room  was  in  reference  to  the  "Grand  Carnival,  Reception  and 
Ball,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Five  Jolly  Boys,"  the  ample 
preparation  some  of  the  girls  were  making  to  attend,  what  they 
were  going  to  wear,  and  who  was  going  with  them. 

Margv,  on  one  occasion,  made  the  announcement  that  her 
friend,  Mr.  Rock,  had  told  her  that  a  number  of  the  aldermen 
would  be  there. 

The  three  girls  who  had  overheard  this  important  piece  of 
information  began  to  think  it  must  be  a  great  occasion,  and  no 
doubt  eminently  respectable,  from  the  fact  that  a  number  of  the 
city  fathers  were  going  to  be  present. 

Mr.  Morris  Cohan,  who  had  made  his  peace  with  Florence, 
mainly  to  keep  on  the  right  side  of  Miss  Vann,  inquired  one 
day,  "I  suppose  you're  going  to  the  ball,  Miss  Burdett?" 

Florence  told  him  she  was  not. 

"Why,  nearly  all  the  girls  are  going." 

"I  have  to  stay  home  with  mother." 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  go  somewhere  to  have  a  little  enjoy- 
ment— you  know  the  old  saying,  'All  work  and  no  play  makes 
Jack  a  dull  boy.'  Why  can't  you  get  your  young  fellow  to 
take  you?" 

"I  have  no  young  fellow." 

"What  are  you  giving  me?"  said  Cohan  with  a  leer.  Just 
then  Miss  Vann  called  her.  "Florence,  I  am  going  out  to 
lunch.  See  that  you  effect  a  good  sale  while  I  am  out,"  she 
said  jokingly.  Miss  Vann  dined  out  every  day.  She  allowed 
herself  ample  time,  sometimes  going  to  the  Ladies'  Noonday 
Rest,  where  she  was  extremely  popular.  She  was  well  posted 
as  to  the  current  scandal,  and,  fluent  of  speech,  could  tell  tid- 
bits of  choice  stories  to  some  of  the  maids  and  matrons  that 
assembled  there,  some  of  which,  for  a  young  lady  of  twenty- 
four  years  of  age  to  recount,  were,  to  say  the  least,  a  little 
blase; but  as  her  listeners  enjoyed  them,  she  was  always  willing 
to  tell  them.  The  day  Mary  was  absent  affairs  were  a  little 
dull ;  even  the  people  who  ran  the  place  could  notice  it.  Some- 
times she  dined  at  a  high-toned  restaurant,  as  did  Mr.  Jacob 


THE  GREAT  CLEVELAND  STORE  143 

Shapiro,  who,  being  a  married  man,  with  a  grown-up  family — 
of  course  there  could  be  no  harm.  Probably  it  gave  them  an 
opportunity  to  talk  business,  or  perhaps,  as  Mr.  Shapiro  al- 
ways paid  the  score,  which  included  the  price  of  a  bottle  of 
wine.  Miss  Mary  Vann  went  there  for  economy's  sake. 

Florence  had  not  been  long  assistant  to  Miss  Vann  when 
she  noticed,  after  a  long  delay  of  her  superior  at  lunch,  Miss 
Vann  would  come  in  with  a  very  flushed  face,  and  acted  as  if 
she  didn't  care  "whether  school  kept  or  not." 

"Attend  to  that  lady,"  she  would  say  to  one  of  her  assistants, 
as  she  reclined  back  in  a  chair.  If  it  happened  to  be  one  of  her 
friends  from  the  Ladies'  Noonday  Rest,  no  matter  how  she 
felt,  she  was  willing  to  give  them  her  attention,  while  she  joked 
with  them  about  the  happenings  the  last  day  she  was  there. 

On  the  Monday  preceding  the  "Grand  Reception  and  Ball," 
when  the  girls  met  at  lunch,  there  was  little  spoken  of  but  the 
dance,  which  was  to  take  place  on  the  Saturday  evening  fol- 
lowing. 

Margy  was  a  bureau  of  information  as  to  the  elaborate 
preparations  that  had  been  made.  The  firm,  she  informed  her 
listeners,  had  bought  two  hundred  tickets,  for  which  they  were 
going  to  get  an  ad.  in  the  programme. 

"I  suppose  Mr.  Shapiro  will  be  giving  us  some  of  the  tick- 
ets." remarked  a  girl  who  was  very  enthusiastic  over  the  affair. 

"I  guess  so,"  said  Margy. 

"I  was  telling  my  friend  about  it,"  whispered  Miss  Brown, 
"and  he  said  he  would  like  to  go.  What  do  you  think  if  we 
three  should  go?" 

"I  would  just  as  soon,"  replied  Miss  Jones.  "We  would  keep 
together.    Will  you  come,  Florence?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  my  mama  would  let  me  or  not.  You 
see,  I  can  not  dance." 

"Can't  you?"  said  Miss  Brown,  surprised.  "The  school  I 
went  to  taught  dancing." 

"O,  I  can  dance,"  replied  Miss  Jones. 

"Well,  I  would  like  to  go  if  I  could  only  dance,"  lamented 
Florence,  "but  you  see  I  have  no  one  to  take  me." 

"Come  and  look  on,  then,"  entreated  Miss  Brown ;  "we  will 


144  THE  GREAT  CLEVELAND  STORE 

not  Stay  late  anyhow,  and  after  the  hard  work  and  long  hours 
we  have  had  during  the  holidays  it  will  be  a  little  enjoyment." 

Florence  said  she  would  ask  her  mother. 

The  following  day  the  floor-walker  in  Margy's  department 
gave  her  a  bunch  of  tickets  to  give  to  any  of  the  girls  who 
wanted  to  take  them. 

Mr.  Morris  Cohan  gave  Florence  a  couple,  just  as  if  he  was 
bestowing  a  great  favor  on  her.  She  accepted  them  without 
any  thought  of  what  she  was  going  to  do  with  them. 

That  evening  Florence  showed  her  mother  the  tickets,  as  if 
they  had  been  a  liberal  donation  she  had  received  from  some 
generous  friend.  "Nearly  all  the  girls  are  going,  mother,"  she 
said.  "Miss  Brown  and  Miss  Jones  are  both  going;  they  have 
asked  me  to  go." 

"Why,  what  do  you  want  to  go  for,  child  ?  You  can't  dance, 
and,  besides,  who  would  take  you  ?" 

"Oh,  that  doesn't  matter.  I  could  go  with  the  girls  and  look 
on,  couldn't  I?  None  of  them  will  stay  late.  They  say  it  is 
going  to  be  very  respectable.  One  of  our  young  ladies  has  a 
friend  on  the  managing  committee,  and  she  said  the  alderman 
is  going  to  be  there  and  a  lot  of  nice  people." 

"Well,  if  I  thought  you  would  take  no  harm,  I  would  let  you 
go,"  replied  her  mother,  seeing  her  inclination,  "but  if  I  did 
let  you  go  you  must  promise  me  you  will  come  home  early." 

"If  I  leave  at  eleven  o'clock,  will  that  be  too  late  ?" 

"Well,  it's  late  enough,  but  I  suppose  on  an  occasion  like 
that  you  could  hardly  leave  sooner."  So  it  was  arranged  that 
Florence  should  attend  the  ball. 

The  next  day  she  was  anxious  for  the  lunch-time  to  arrive  so 
she  could  tell  her  two  friends.  Margy  heard  of  the  three  girls 
going  and  promised  them  a  good  time.  "There  will  be  plenty 
of  nice  young  men  there,  and  I  will  get  you  a  beau,"  she  said 
to  Florence,  who  laughed  good-naturedly. 

From  the  hour  Mrs.  Burdett  had  given  her  consent  to  her 
daughter  to  attend  the  ball  she  had  devoted  her  skill  to  the 
preparation  of  every  finery  her  means  and  taste  could  devise 
to  make  her  daughter  attractive. 

Not  that  Florence  wasn't  always  tastily  attired,  but  this  was 


A  FRIEND  IN   NEED  145 

a  special  occasion — a  coming-out  in  society,  as  the  well-to-do 
people  would  put  it. 

So  she  determined  that  her  child,  as  far  as  it  lay  in  her 
power,  should  be  dressed  as  befitted  a  young  lady  just  making 
her  debut. 

On  the  evening  of  the  ball  her  mother  paid  special  attention 
to  the  make-up  of  her  child's  toilet,  braided  her  beautiful  hair, 
fitted  on  her  dress,  which  had  been  made  expressly  for  this  oc- 
casion, and,  as  a  last  final  act  of  ornamentation,  fastened  around 
her  neck  a  coral  necklace  that  she  herself  had  worn  when  a  girl. 

The  preparations  being  all  completed,  the  mother  looked  upon 
her  beautiful  child  and  heaved  a  sigh.  She  thought,  "Oh !  if 
my  Henrv  had  but  lived,  how  proud  he  would  be  of  his  daugh- 
ter !" 

"Good-bye,  mama,"  the  girl  said  at  the  door,  as  her  mother 
watched  her  tripping  along  the  street. 

Widow  Eurdett  felt  sad  in  spite  of  her  child's  hilarity.  She 
went  and  sat  down  at  her  sewing  machine,  to  work  and  try  to 
forget. 


Chapter  XVIII 

A   FRIEND  IN   NEED. 

"Officer,  let  him  go,"  shouted  a  gentleman  who  came  running 
across  the  street.  "The  two  fellows  that  knocked  the  man  down 
have  run  up  the  alley ;  if  it  had  not  been  for  this  young  fellow, 
they  would  have  robbed  him,  probably  murdered  him," 

"Is  that  so,  Mr.  Saunders,"  replied  the  policeman,  seeming 
to  know  the  gentleman  who  was  standing  sponsor  for  Mike's 
innocence;  "but  you  see  he  has  a  gun  in  his  hand,"  continued 
the  policeman,  "and  that  looks  suspicious." 

"Yes,  but  we  saw  him  take  the  gun  from  the  fellow  who  was 
trying  to  shoot  him  for  interfering.  Is  that  not  so,  Miss 
Moore  ?" 


146  A  FRIEND  IN  NEED 

"Yes,  it  is;  we  saw  the  whole  affair  from  across  the  street. 
I  was  so  frightened  I  couldn't  shout." 

"It  was  over  in  a  few  seconds,"  joined  in  Saunders. 

In  face  of  this  evidence  there  was  nothing  left  for  the  police- 
man to  do  but  to  let  go  of  Mike,  who  handed  the  gun  to  him.  A 
few  feet  farther  away  they  found  the  weapon  with  which  Mon- 
roe had  been  knocked  down.  It  was  the  leg  of  a  pink  stocking 
filled  with  sand. 

"A  pretty  dangerous  weapon,"  remarked  Saunders  to  the 
policeman  who  was  examining  it. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  officer;  "you  could  knock  down  an  ox 
with  that." 

They  then  gave  their  attention  to  the  man  who  still  lay  on 
the  pavement.  Scully  and  Saunders  turned  him  over,  and, 
dragging  him  to  the  sidewalk,  placed  him  in  a  sitting  position, 
with  his  back  to  the  wall. 

"I'm  afraid  they've  done  for  him,"  remarked  the  policeman. 
.Saunders  placed  his  hand  at  the  back  of  Monroe's  head,  and, 
after  feeling  it,  said,  "He's  not  cut,  anyway." 

The  policeman  shook  Monroe  in  an  attempt  to  arouse  him. 
"Wake  up !  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?"  In  a  few  minutes 
Monroe  opened  his  eyes  and  gazed  vacantly  around  at  the 
crowd  that  had  gathered. 

"Are  you  much  hurt?"  inquired  the  policeman. 

"Somebody  struck  me." 

"Let  us  lift  him  up,"  said  Saunders. 

Scully  and  Saunders  got  hold  of  Monroe  and  lifted  him  to 
his  feet.  He  was  still  stupid,  partly  from  the  blow  he  had  re- 
ceived and  partly  from  the  amount   of   drink   he   had   taken. 

"Where  am  I  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  looked  around. 

"You're  on  Lorane  street,"  replied  the  policeman;  "where 
do  you  live,  or  where  are  you  staying?" 

"At  the  Metropolis,"  replied  Monroe,  who  was  fast  coming 
to  his  senses.  Even  the  effects  of  the  drink  seemed  to  be  sub- 
siding. 

"1  think  T  should  take  him  to  the  station,"  remarked  the  po- 
liceman, looking  over  at  Saunders. 

"Nonsense!  no  doubt  this  is  a  very  respectable  man.     We 


A  FRIEND  IN   NEED  147 

should  take  him  to  his  hotel.  They'll  know  him  there.  He  is 
getting  all  right  now." 

"Can  you  walk  to  your  hotel  ?"  inquired  the  policeman. 

"Sure,"  was  his  answer,  straightening  himself  up. 

"I  would  go  with  you."  whispered  Saunders  to  the  police- 
man, "only  I  have  a  party  with  me.  Tell  Mr.  Fairbanks  I  will 
call  around  in  the  morning  and  see  him." 

"You  had  better  come  with  me,  young  fellow,"  said  the  po- 
liceman, addressing  Mike;  so  they  sandwiched  Monroe  in  be- 
tween them  and  set  out  for  the  hotel,  followed  by  the  crowd. 

On  reaching  the  hotel  the  porter  at  the  door  recognized  Mr. 
Monroe  and  inquired,  "What's  the  trouble?"  While  they  were 
approaching  the  clerk's  desk,  the  proprietor,  who  happened  to 
be  in  the  building,  seeing  the  commotion,  came  running  toward 
them. 

"Does  this  man  stay  here?"  inquired  the  policeman. 

"Sure  he  does,"  answered  the  hotel-keeper ;  "what  has  hap- 
pened to  him?" 

"He's  been  stuck  up,"  replied  the  policeman,  in  an  off-handed 
manner,  "and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  this  young  fellow  he  would 
likely  have  been  half-killed  as  well  as  robbed." 

"Well,  officer,  I  am  very  thankful  to  you  for  bringing  Mr. 
Monroe  to  the  hotel,  and  I'll  not  forget  you.  You  had  better 
come  round  in  the  morning;  you  see,  Mr.  Monroe  is  not  in  a 
condition  to  give  you  much  information  tonight,  and  you, 
young  fellow,  you  had  better  come,  too.  Mr.  Monroe  is  one 
of  our  most  substantial  of  Western  men,  and  I  am  sure  will  be 
pleased  to  meet  you.  Where  are  you  staying?"  Mike  gave  his 
address. 

"Here,  Fred,"  addressing  the  porter,  "get  the  key  of  Mr. 
Monroe's  room."  Turning  to  Monroe,  who  had  sat  listening 
to  this  dialogue,  he  said,  "Well,  old  friend.  I  see  they've  been 
doing  you  up." 

"Somebody  soaked  me,"  answered  Monroe;  "I  don't  know 
who  it  was." 

"Well,"  said  the  hotel  proprietor,  laughing,  "when  you  wild 
men  of  the  plains  come  in  to  civilized  communities,  they  think 
you're  easy  marks,  so  they  go  for  you.    You're  none  the  worse, 


148  A   FRIEND  IN    NEED 

anyhow ;  go  up  to  your  room,  and  I'll  send  you  up  anything 
you  want.  Do  you  know  your  friend  that  came  to  your  res- 
cue ?" 

"No,"  said  Monroe,  looking  at  Mike. 

"Well,  he  is  all  right,"  chimed  in  the  officer.  "If  it  hadn't 
been  for  him,  there  is  no  telling  what  would  have  happened  to 
you," 

"I  want  to  know  him,"  said  Monroe:  "ask  him  what  he'll 
have.    We  will  go  and  take  a  drink." 

"No,  sirree,"  replied  the  hotel-keeper,  "you  go  to  bed.  I 
guess  you  had  enough  for  one  day.  Officer,  did  you  see  if  he 
had  his  money  left,  or  did  they  get  away  with  it?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"I  don't  believe  they  had  time,"  remarked  Scully. 

"Where's  your  money?"  said  the  hotel  proprietor,  address- 
ing Monroe. 

Monroe  put  his  hand  in  his  vest  pocket  and  pulled  out  fif- 
teen dollars  in  bills  and  handed  them  to  the  hotel-keeper.  "Is 
this  all  you've  got  ?"  Monroe  placed  his  hand  inside  his  vest 
and  produced  the  leather  case.  It  was  seen  to  contain  a  large 
amount  in  bills.  The  hotel-keeper  placed  the  fifteen  dollars  in 
it,  went  behind  the  desk  and  placed  it  in  the  safe. 

"Now,  old  friend,  you  to  the  blankets.  Come,  Fred;  here, 
you  boys,  take  Mr.  Monroe  to  his  room." 

"Come  and  have  a  cigar  with  me,"  said  the  proprietor,  ad- 
dressing the  policeman  and  Mike,  after  Monroe  had  been  led 
away.  Mike  lit  his  cigar,  and,  after  renewing  his  promise  to 
be  around  in  the  morning,  took  his  departure. 

The  following  morning  Mr.  Saunders,  before  going  to  the 
bank,  called  at  the  Metropolis.  Mr.  Monroe,  accustomed  to 
early  rising,  and  whose  rugged  constitution  soon  shook  off  the 
effects  of  the  previous  night's  debauch,  was  smoking  in  the 
rotunda  when  he  arrived. 

"How  do  vou  feel  this  morning?" 

"Fairly  well,  thank  you." 

"You  don't  know  me,  I  presume;  my  name  is  Saunders,  of 
the  National.  I  made  your  acquaintance  under  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances last  night." 


A  FRIEND  IN    NEED  149 

"O  yes,  I  have  some  vague  recollections  of  it.  So  you  were 
one  of  the  men  who  brought  me  to  the  hotel  ?" 

"Yes,  I  was  near  the  spot  when  they  tried  to  hold  you  up." 

"Well,  the  truth  of  it  is,  Mr.  Saunders,  I  don't  know  much 
about  it.  Fred,  the  porter,  told  me  of  you  and  some  other  party 
bringing  me  home.  There  was  also  a  policeman.  I  expect  him 
around  during  the  morning.  I  assure  you  I  am  very  much  in- 
debted to  you  for  your  kindness.  Tell  me  the  particulars — 
you  know  J  had  been  drinking  a  little  too  much." 

Mr.  Saunders  gave  him  a  graphic  description  of  what  he 
saw,  and  in  glowing  terms  recited  the  action  of  the  young  man 
who  had  put  the  robbers  to  rovtt. 

Monroe  got  very  much  interested.  He  wanted  to  know 
where  he  could  find  the  young  fellow.    "I  must  call  upon  him." 

"He  promised  to  come  here  today ;  more  than  likely  he  will. 
My !  but  he  showed  some  grit,"  remarked  Saunders,  with  some 
enthusiasm.  "There  are  very  few  men  that  would  tackle  two 
highway  robbers,  one  with  a  gim  in  his  hand  and  the  other 
with  a  club." 

"Perhaps  I  owe  my  life  to  him?"  said  Monroe  thoughtfully. 

"No  telling.  I'll  have  to  be  ofif,  my  time  is  near  up ;  if  you're 
around  near  our  place,  call  in." 

"Won't  you  have  a  drink  before  you  go?" 

"No,  thank  you,  not  at  present ;  I  haven't  time ;  may  see  you 
later.    Good  morning." 

Monroe  sat  in  the  rotunda  of  the  hotel  scrutinizing  every 
young  man  who  came  in,  with  the  hope  of  identifying  the  party 
who  had  rendered  him  such  signal  service.  On  a  number  of 
occasions  when  he  saw  a  person  that  answered  the  description 
he  would  go  up  to  the  desk  and  inquire,  "Was  that  man  look- 
ing for  me  ?"  to  be  met  with  the  answer,  "No,  sir."  About  noon 
he  began  to  despair  of  his  friend  coming,  and  was  waiting  anxi- 
ously for  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel  to  turn  up,  so  that  he  might 
get  his  deliverer's  name  and  address  and  go  seek  him. 

It  was  considerably  past  noon  when  he  saw  a  young  man 
come  in  at  the  front  entrance  and  look  around  as  if  in  search 
of  some  one.    "That's  him,"  Monroe  thought  to  himself. 

Mike — for  he  it  was — happened  to  get  his  eye  on  Monroe, 


150  A  FRIEND  IN   NEED 

whom  he  recognized.  He  came  towards  him  and  Monroe  ex- 
tended his  hand.  "I  have  been  waiting  for  you,"  he  said.  "I 
understand  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  I  would  have  been  badly 
mussed  up ;  as  it  was,  I  know  they  laid  me  out." 

Mike  smiled,  saying,  "It  did  look  bad  for  a  time." 

■'Come  upstairs  to  my  room.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  you 
know  about  it.  We  cannot  talk  here,  or  perhaps  you  haven't 
much  time,"  looking  at  Scully.  "Probably  this  is  your  lunch 
hour?" 

"No,"  replied  Mike,  "time  is  the  only  thing  I  have  much  of 
at  present." 

"Well,  then,  come  along."  Monroe  led  the  way  to  his  room. 
As  soon  as  he  entered  he  touched  the  bell.    "Sit  down,"  he  said. 

Scully  took  a  seat,  the  bell  boy  came  and  Monroe  wanted  to 
know  what  Mike  would  take. 

"I  don't  take  anything,  thank  you." 

"What,  nothing?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Don't  you  smoke,  either?" 

"Yes,  I'll  take  a  smoke." 

"Bring  up  some  cigars,  boy ;  you  know  the  kind  I  use." 
When  the  boy  returned  with  the  cigars,  he  told  Monroe  that 
the  officer  who  came  to  the  hotel  with  him  the  night  before  was 
down  stairs,  and  that  the  captain  was  with  him. 

"You  tell  them  that  I  will  take  it  as  a  great  favor  if  they  will 
call  back  in  about  an  hour ;  tell  the  captain  I  am  very  anxious 
to  see  him.  Give  him  my  regards,  and  see  what  they  both  will 
take."  As  soon  as  the  boy  left  he  continued:  "Light  your 
cigar.  Now,  young  man,  I  know  you  rendered  me  a  very  great 
service  last  night.  I  have  heard  something  about  it  from  a 
Mr.  Saunders,  and  I  wanted  to  meet  you,  thank  you,  and  see 
if  I  could  do  anything  for  you  in  return." 

Scully  told  him  he  didn't  expect,  nor  would  he  accept,  any 
return.  "I  hated  to  see  them  knock  you  down  as  they  did, 
especially  as  I  knew  you  must  have  either  given  or  spent  a  lot 
of  money  with  them." 

"I  didn't  know  I  was  with  them.  That's  a  surprise  to  me. 
I  wonder  where  I  picked  them  up?    I  remember  being  in  a 


A  FRIEND  IN   NEED  .151 

concert  hall.  Likely  I  made  their  acquaintance  there,  but  how 
did  you  happen  to  come  on  the  scene?" 

"It  was  this  way:  About  nine  o'clock  I  was  passing  the  con- 
cert hall,  and,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  thought  I  would  go 
in ;  the  place  was  nearly  full  at  the  time,  I  sat  down,  and  in 
a  short  time  you  came  in  and  sat  at  the  same  table.  I  saw  you 
had  been  drinking  some,  and  you  would  insist  upon  treating 
me.  I  had  some  gmger  ale  with  you.  You  seemed  to  enjoy 
the  show.  There  was  one  young  woman  in  particular  who 
seemed  to  please  you.'"' 

"Yes,  I  remember  her — Miss  Sunlight  or  Starlight,  or  some 
such  name,  they  called  her." 

"Well,"  said  Mike,  continuing,  "after  she  had  sung  the  sec- 
ond song,  in  which  you  joined  in  the  chorus — "  a  broad  smile 
covering  his  countenance  as  he  related  this  part  of  the  pro- 
gramme. 

"Did  I?"  exclaimed  Monroe.  "My!  but  I  must  have  been 
full." 

"Then  you  told  the  waiter  you  would  like  to  treat  the  young 
lady.  You  sent  a  bottle  of  wine  in  to  hfer  and  after  the  waiter 
had  taken  in  the  wine  he  came  out  and  whispered  something  to 
you.  You  got  up  and  followed  him  behind  the  stage.  I  stayed 
there  and  began  to  notice  all  the  wine  that  was  going  in  and 
guessed  you  were  paying  for  it." 

"I  suppose  I  was,"  said  Monroe,  nodding.  "The  old  story 
— 'Fools  and  their  money  are  easy  parted.'  " 

"Well,  whatever  happened,  you  seemed  to  come  out  in  a  bad 
temper.  I  heard  you  muttering  something  to  yourself  as  you 
passed  me ;  just  then  I  noticed  the  young  woman  whose  song 
you  praised  so  highly  come  to  the  curtain  and  signal  to  a 
couple  of  fellows  who  sat  at  a  table  by  themselves.  Whatever 
she  said  to  them,  they  went  out  shortly  after  you.  T  got  some- 
what suspicious  and  followed  them.  T  could  see  by  their  man- 
ner that  they  meant  mischief.  When  you  reached  the  alley 
that's  a  little  distance  up  the  street  from  the  concert  hall,  I  saw 
one  of  them  strike  you,  and  down  you  went.  I  shouted  'Hello ! 
what  are  you  fellows  up  to?'  I  went  up  to  where  you  were 
lying,  and  they  ran  away." 


152  A  FRIEND  IN    NEED 

"Is  that  all?" 

"No;  a  policeman  came  and  grabbed  me.  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  a  gentleman  who  saw  the  whole  affair,  I'd  been  in  a  tight 
box.    Then  we  brought  you  to  the  hotel." 

''What  about  the  gun?" 

"Why,  the  fellow  left  it  in  my  hand  when  he  ran  away — 
that's  what  looked  so  bad." 

"You're  a  pretty  modest  young  man,"  remarked  Monroe, 
"but  as  I  have  already  heard  the  balance  of  the  story,  I  know 
I  am  indebted  to  you  a  good  deal.    Where  are  you  working?" 

"I  am  not  working  at  all." 

"Is  that  so?    How  long  liave  you  been  in  Denver?" 

"Three  days." 

"You're  a  stranger  here,  then?" 

"Yes,  sir ;  I  have  come  here  to  seek  work." 

"You  have  found  it,  then?" 

"No,  I  haven't.  I  tramped  around  all  day  yesterday,  and 
up  to  noon  today,  but  there  is  nothing  doing." 

"How  would  you  like  to  take  a  job  from  me?" 

"If  I  could  fill  it,  I  would  only  be  too  glad." 

"Well,  consider  yourself  engaged ;  we'll  talk  further,  about 
it  after  we  eat.     Come  along." 

As  soon  as  they  had  dined,  Monroe  went  to  the  office  to  in- 
terview the  captain  of  police,  who  was  waiting  for  him. 

"Well,  Cap,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand,  "I  suppose  you 
have  captured  the  two  fellows  who  held  me  up  last  night?" 

"Not  yet,  sir,  but  we  are  close  on  their  trail.  I  hope  to  have 
them  before  night.    I  have  a  dozen  of  my  men  out  on  the  job." 

"Is  that  so?    Why,  what  clew  have  you?" 

"We  have  found  out  that  you  were  in  a  concert  hall  bowling 
them  up  for  the  girls ;  that  you  were  maudlin,  and  that  you 
probably  exposed  your  wad.  We've  got  the  gun,  and  are  try- 
ing to  locate  the  owner.  My  men  are  visiting  the  places  where 
they  sell  such  weapons  to  see  if  any  of  them  can  identify  it,  but 
more  important  is  the  sand-bag  they  knocked  you  down  with. 
It  was  made  out  of  a  pink  stocking,  such  as  those  vaudeville 
girls  wear.  We  have  one  in  our  minds  that  wears  something 
very  similar — you  know  all  those  girls  have  tastes  of  their  own. 


A  FRIEND  IN   NEED  153 

I  am  having  one  of  my  plain  clothes  fellows  go  to  a  concert 
hall  tonight  to  examine  the  hosiery  of  one  of  the  young 
damsels." 

"Maybe  she  won't  let  him?" 

"She  won't,  won't  she?  Why,  she'll  know  nothing  about  it." 

"Well,  Cap,  that  seems  funny  to  me." 

"As  easy  as  falling  off  a  log.  When  he  goes  into  the  place 
tonight,  he'll  let  on  he  is  as  full  as  you  were.  It'll  not  be  long 
until  the  gentlemanly  waiter  will  be  steering  him  into  the  inner 
recesses  of  the  place,  just  as  they  did  you."  Monroe  began  to 
wince. 

"A  couple  of  bottles  of  wine,  the  exposure  of  a  little  stage 
money  we  have  in  stock,  and  the  damsel  will  be  on  his  knee; 
and  if  my  man  can't  tell  you  the  length,  texture,  and  shade  of 
her  stockings  when  he  comes  out  I'll  be  very  much  mistaken. 
If  he  thinks  the  clew  is  a  hot  one,  we'll  watch  out  for  her 
young  gentlemen  friends,  pinch  them  and  her,  and  sweat  them ; 
we'll  also  threaten  the  proprietor  of  the  house ;  he  would  rather 
give  up  his  guts  than  his  license." 

"Well,  captain,  T  must  admit  you're  on  a  pretty  hot  trail, 
but  what's  going  to  become  of  me?" 

"Why,  you'll  have  to  prosecute  them.  I  have  no  doubt  the 
young  fellow  who  came  to  your  assistance  will  be  able  to  iden- 
tify them  when  he  sees  them." 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Monroe.  "Captain,  you're  a  married 
man?" 

"Yes." 

"Have  any  family?" 

"Yes ;  they're  all  grown  up." 

"I  should  judge  so  by  your  age.    Any  daughters?" 

"Yes ;  two." 

"Well,  captain,  your  profession  would  be  an  excuse  for  you 
sometimes  hobnobbing  with  some  of  the  young  lady  sports  that 
kick  on  the  vaudeville  stage,  and  so  furnish  you  with  an  ex- 
cuse for  examining  their  stockings :  but.  Cap.  I  can't  offer  any 
such  pretext.  I  am  a  man  of  some  standing  where  I  come 
from,  I  am  fairly  well  up  in  years,  and  should  have  some  sense. 
I,  too,  have  a  daughter,  and  would  not  have  my  name  brought 


154  A  FRIEND  IN   NEED 

up;  nor  would  I  appear  in  court  against  them,  if  they  had  got 
away  with  all  the  money  I  had  on  me  at  the  time." 

"What!  you  will  permit  yourself  to  be  nearly  robbed  and 
murdered  and  still  won't  prosecute  them?" 

"Yes,  that's  just  what  I  mean.  Cap;  I  can't  afford  it.  I 
wouldn't  mind  standing  up  in  court  before  the  two  highway- 
men, but  before  that  judy  with  the  pink  stockings,  not  for  half 
my  estate;  so  call  your  men  off.  You  know  the  proprietor 
here,  Mr.  Fairbanks?" 

"Yes." 

"A  friend  of  yours  in  whom  you  have  confidence?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  you  order  the  best  suit  of  clothes  that  his  tailor,  or 
any  tailor  you  may  choose,  makes,  and  send  the  bill  to  him. 
He'll  pay  for  them.  I  will  leave  a  ten-dollar  bill  for  your  man. 
Of  course,  you  know  nothing  about  that." 

The  captain  of  police  laughed,  and  said,  "Mum's  the  word, 
but,  Mr.  Monroe,  you're  spoiling  a  nice  piece  of  detective  work 
that  would  have  added  considerable  to  my  reputation.  Do  you 
know  a  daisy  by  the  name  of  Lulu  ?" 

"No,"  said  Monroe,  smiling. 

"Perhaps  you  know  a  young  lady  by  the  name  of  Miss  Sun- 
light?" 

"Not  guilty,"  said  Monroe,  bursting  into  a  hearty  laugh. 
"Cap,  you're  all  right!  1  wish  you  luck.  If  you  ever  want  a 
character,  don't  forget  me.    What'U  you  take?" 

The  captain  of  police  left  Monroe  in  the  best  of  humor, 
promising  him  that  when  he  came  to  Denver  again  he  would 
furnish  him  an  escort. 

"I  believe  I'll  need  one.  You  see,  captain,  we  fellows  out 
on  the  plains,  where  we  meet  little  but  bull-whackers  and  cow- 
punchers,  feel  a  little  wild  when  we  find  ourselves  back  in  civ- 
ilized communities,  and,  of  course,  are  easily  lured  away  by 
some  of  the  attractions  to  be  found  in  big  cities." 

"Especially  if  the  attractions  wear  pink  stockings,"  was  the 
captain's  sally  as  he  rose  to  go. 

Monroe  went  back  to  where  he  had  left  Scully. 

"Bye-the-bye,  I  haven't  learned  your  name  yet?" 


JOHN   MONROE'S  STORY  155 

"Michael  Scully,  sir." 

"Where  do  you  hail  from,  Scully  ?" 

"Chicago,  sir." 

"Well,  Mr.  Scully,  I  leave  for  home  this  evening  by  the 
5  :30,  so  if  you  have  any  business  to  attend  to  you  had  better 
go  and  see  to  it.  I  have  a  few  calls  to  make  myself.  We  have 
a  long  journey  before  us." 

"That  doesn't  matter  to  me,  sir." 

"Well,  you  be  here  by  5  o'clock,  with  whatever  baggage  you 
have,  and  I'll  attend  to  the  rest,  so  good-bye  for  the  present." 


Chapter  XIX 
JOHN  Monroe's  story. 

The  journey  from  Denver  to  Montana  was  of  the  most  in- 
teresting character — ^the  mountains  with  their  snow-clad  peaks, 
the  extensive  plains,  some  barren,  others  verdant,  in  some 
parts  dense  forest,  where  majestic  trees,  now  bare  of  leaves, 
their  widely  extending  branches  showing  how  abundant  their 
foliage  must  be  when  in  leaf ;  rushing  rivers,  some  expansive 
in  their  dimensions,  others  little  better  than  creeks.  Parts  of 
the  journey  the  train  had  to  pass  through  rugged  rocks,  where 
men  had  cut  the  way,  other  parts  through  a  wilderness,  where 
nothing  could  be  heard  but  the  panting  of  the  engine  as  it 
rushed  along,  for  miles  not  the  sight  of  a  human  habitation. 

To  fittingly  describe  the  ever-changing  panorama  would  re- 
quire a  descriptive  ability  such  as  your  narrator  can  never 
hope  to  possess,  and,  if  he  did,  'twould  take  more  time  and 
space  than  is  allowable  in  this  brief  story  of  our  times. 

Mr.  Monroe,  who  had  traveled  over  the  route  before,  took 
pleasure  in  pointing  out  to  Scully  many  points  of  interest. 

Comfortably  seated. in  a  Pullman  car,  when  one  was  attached 
to  the  train  on  which  they  were  traveling,  smoking  and  chat- 
ting, with  regular  adjournments  to  the  dining-car,  if  there  was 
one  connected,  and  if  not,  the  brief  stay  at  the  different  stop- 


156  JOHN    MONROES  STORY 

ping  places,  where  time  was  allowed  for  a  hurried  meal,  served 
materially  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  journey. 

Scully  in  all  his  travels  had  never  occupied  a  berth  in  a  car 
at  night  until  on  this  journey.  On  getting  up  in  the  morning 
after  his  first  night's  travel,  he  could  not  but  think  of  the 
women  and  children  he  had  seen  on  the  train  which  brought 
him  from  Chicago  to  Denver.  He  thought  to  himself,  how 
much  better  off  such  people  would  be  if  they  could  tuck  their 
children  into  a  compartment  such  as  he  was  then  getting  out 
of,  not  counting  the  advantage  it  would  be  to  the  weary  mother, 
sitting  upright  in  her  seat,  trying  to  get  a  little  sleep,  with  her 
restless  offspring  on  her  knees  at  the  same  time. 

Scully  had  long  since  come  to  the  conclusion  that  his  fellow- 
traveler  was  a  man  of  considerable  means,  as  no  expense  was 
spared  to  make  them  comfortable  on  their  journey. 

Monroe  never  inquired  of  Scully  as  to  his  antecedents,  but 
was  ever  willing  to  gossip  about  episodes  in  his  own  life. 

On  the  day  on  which  they  were  to  arrive  at  their  destination, 
after  breakfast,  Monroe  seemed  to  be  in  a  communicative 
mood.  "Come,  light  up,"  he  said,  handing  Mike  his  cigar  case. 
"If  we  are  on  time  we  will  arrive  at  our  destination  a  few 
minutes  after  two.     I  suppose  you  are  tired?" 

"No ;  I  have  enjoyed  the  journey  very  much.  This  is  surely 
a  grand  country ;  I  am  surprised  to  see  so  few  people  in  it." 

"Yes,  my  boy,  this  is  God's  country.  If  the  people  only 
knew  it,  and  would  come  out  here  instead  of  crowding  into  the 
big  cities,  how  much  better  off  they  would  be." 

"How  long  have  you  been  out  here,  Mr.  Monroe?" 

"Upwards  of  twenty  years.  When  I  came  out  here  there 
were  not  nearly  as  many  people  as  there  are  now." 

"How  did  you  manage  to  come  so  far  ?"  said  Scully,  smiling. 

"Well,  the  conditions  were  somewhat  similar  to  yours.  I 
suppose  when  you  left  Chicago  you  hadn't  the  faintest  idea  of 
coming  to  Montana?" 

"No,  but  I  didn't  know  where  I  was  going  to  stop." 

"With  me  it  was  this  way,"  continued  Monroe.  "I  was  bom 
in  New  York  State,  and  spent  a  good  deal  of  my  time  in  New 
York  citv.    When  I  came  out  here  first,  I  must  admit  I  felt  a 


JOHN  Monroe's  story  157 

little  lonesome,  as  I  suppose  you  will,  but  it  wore  off;  so  that 
now,  if  they  gave  me  a  big  city,  on  condition  I'd  live  in  it,  I 
wouldn't  take  the  job.  I  never  intended,  however,  when  I  left 
New  York,  to  come  this  far — never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing." 
Seeing  that  Scully  was  interested  in  the  conversation,  he  con- 
tinued : 

"You  see,  I  came  of  old  American  stock.  My  father — Lord 
have  mercy  on  him — left  me  a  business  when  he  died,  which  I 
followed  until  I  was  nearly  forty  years  old.  Like  most  Amer- 
icans, I  hardly  allowed  myself  time  to  eat.  I  was  in  pursuit 
of  the  almighty  dollar,  and,  if  I  say  it  myself,  I  captured  a  few 
of  them.  At  length  I  tired,  and  thought  I  would  like  a  change, 
so  I  got  married.  My  wife  was  my  first  and  only  love.  I  had 
known  her  since  she  was  a  child."  When  he  came  to  this  part 
of  his  story  he  was  visibly  affected.  "In  fact,  I  had  nursed 
her  when  she  was  a  little  girl.  She  came  from  honest  parents. 
They  were  poor,  but  what  difference  did  that  make?  I  had 
enough  for  us  both.  At  the  time  we  were  married  she  was  an 
orphan,  her  parents  having  died  the  year  previous, 

"I  decided  that  we  go  West.  I  had  some  stock  in  mines,  and 
had  a  notion  to  invest  some  more,  probably  go  into  the  busi- 
ness, so,  like  you,  I  set  out  for  Denver.  There  wasn't  much 
in  Denver  in  those  days ;  rough  miners  and  Cherokee  Indians 
formed  the  bulk  of  the  population,  so  I  saw  it  was  no  place  for 
a  young  woman  who  had  been  brought  up  in  New  York  city. 
I  also  looked  into  the  mining  business  and  came  to  the  con- 
clusion it  was  very  uncertain,  so  I  resolved  to  go  to  cattle- 
raising.  I  loved  a  good  horse.  I  and  my  wife  drifted  around 
for  a  few  months  in  Nebraska,  Dakota,  Wyoming,  and  at 
length  we  struck  Montana.  This  was  before  the  war.  I  sup- 
pose if  I  had  stayed  in  New  York  I  would  have  gone  to  the 
front,  as  I  hated  slavery,  but  before  the  conflict  began  I  found 
myself  located  far  frorn  the  scene  of  battle,  with  a  young  wife 
soon  to  give  birth  to  a  child ;  there  was  nothing  for  me  to  do 
but  stick  where  I  was,  and  send  my  contribution  to  the  boys  in 
blue,  which  I  did  through  my  banker  in  New  York. 

"Montana  was  a  wild  spot  in  those  days.  A  man  had  not 
only  to  have  his  grit,  but  to  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  his  head.     I 


158  JOHN    MONROE'S  STORY 

had  both.  I  let  no  man  bhiff  me  out  of  my  rights.  I  could  ar- 
gue like  a  Pennsylvania  lawyer,  and  with  as  much  humility  as 
a  man  trying  to  solicit  a  loan. 

"Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  found  myself  in  Montana  with  a 
hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  land.  I  also  took  up  a  tree  claim, 
which  made  three  hundred  and  twenty,  and  at  the  end  of  six 
months  I  pre-empted  the  first  one  hundred  and  sixty  and  home- 
steaded  another  hundred  and  sixty,  making  four  hundred  and 
eighty  in  all.  At  the  time  I  am  talking  about  one  could  have 
pick  and  choice,  and  I  think  I  made  a  good  selection.  Since 
that  time  there  has  never  been  a  piece  of  land  in  Fair  Valley 
for  sale  that  I  didn't  purchase,  occasionally  paying  more  than 
market  price,  but  as  it  was  worth  more  to  me  than  to  any  one 
else,  I  always  got  it,  until  now  I  own  the  whole  valley,  and 
have  by  far  the  largest  ranch  in  my  part  of  the  country  and 
the  best  stock  on  it.  You  see,  I  had  capital  to  commence  with, 
while  the  bulk  of  the  people  coming  out  here  had  little  but 
their  energy — a  good  thing,  but  hardly  sufficient  for  pioneer- 
ing with. 

"Well,  I  had  hardly  my  house  put  in  shape  until  Virgie  was 
born  to  us.  My  wife,  unlike  most  of  the  poor  women  who 
came  out  here,  had  every  accommodation.  We  were  the  hap- 
piest couple  on  earth.  I  imported  a  nurse — we  have  her  yet  to 
care  for  Virgie — but  trouble  came  to  us.  My  wife  took  sick. 
I  had  a  doctor — a  good  one — to  visit  her.  As  soon  as  he  ex- 
amined her  he  called  me  into  another  room.  'Your  wife  will 
have  to  undergo  an  operation,  and  there's  no  time  to  lose.'  I 
was  alarmed.  'What  am  I  going  to  do,  doctor  ?  Will  we  tain 
her  to  the  city?' 

"  'No,  she  is  not  fit  to  be  moved.' 

"For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  felt  my  heart  sink  within  me. 
'Suggest  something,'  I  said,  in  my  anxiety. 

"  'Well,  we'll  have  to  try  and  get  Bowen  from  Lourt.  He  is 
as  good  a  surgeon  as  there  is  in  the  West.' 

"I  ran  out  and  yelled  for  Randal — he  was  a  young  man  in 
those  days.  'Saddle  the  mare  and  take  Smith  with  you;  let 
him  have  Stockwell.  ride  for  your  lives  to  Lourt  and  bring 
Doctor  Bowen.     Tell  him  it's  an  operation    and    for   him   to 


JOHN  Monroe's  story  159 

bring  his  tools  with  him;  let  there  be  no  delay.  Bring  him. 
If  coaxing  won't  do,  threaten  him,  but  bring  him  back  with 
you.  Don't  fail  me,  Randal.  Let  him  have  the  horse  that  is 
freshest,  if  you  cannot  get  a  proper  animal  there,  and  let 
Smith  get  back  as  best  he  can.' 

"I  remember  well  when  both  men  were  mounted — you  see, 
it  was  a  ri«le  of  thirty  miles  and  thirty  back.  They  started  out 
a  pretty  good  pace,  but  as  if  they  wanted  to  save  their  horses. 
'Go!'  I  yelled  after  them  in  my  anxiety.  Randal,  hearing  me, 
drove  his  spurs  into  the  mare's  flanks  and  they  were  off  like 
the  wind.    It  was  a  race  for  life. 

"The  doctor  and  myself  stayed  with  her.  She  was  as  pa- 
tient as  a  lamb  iil  her  suffering.  I  will  never  forget  the  terri- 
ble suspense  of  the  few  hours  while  we  were  waiting.  It 
seemed  like  eternity.  Full  of  fear  that  Randal  might  not  be 
able  to  get  the  man  we  wanted — he  might  be  away  on  a  visit 
or  be  tied  up  in  another  case — long  before  there  was  any  pos- 
sibility of  them  being  in  sight,  I  would  go  and  look  towards 
Pine  Ridge,  where  they  would  have  to  cross,  and  gaze  long, 
then  return  to  the  house  despondingly.'  During  the  wait  we 
had  made  all  the  preparations  we  could. 

"Virgie  at  this  time  was  but  two  years  old.  She  seemed  to 
know  there  was  something  wrong.  I  got  one  of  the  boys  to 
take  her  away  for  a  long  ride.  Miss  Piatt  was  invaluable  to 
us,  good  soul  that  she  is.  She  helped  the  doctor  to  prepare  my 
wife,  whom  we  had  told  what  had  to  be  done. 

"Well,  after  I  had  been  on  the  lookout  seven  or  eight  times, 
I  came  in  and  said.  'Doctor,  they're  not  going  to  come.'  He 
pulled  out  his  watch,  shook  his  head  and  remarked,  'Well,  they 
should  have  been  here  by  this  time.' 

"From  where  we  were  sitting  we  could  hear  the  suppressed 
moans  coming  from  the  sick-room,  where  Miss  Piatt  was  min- 
istering to  my  wife  as  best  she  could. 

"  'Let  us  go  and  take  a  look,'  said  the  doctor,  whom  I  now 
saw  had  a  very  troubled  appearance.  We  gazed  for  some  min- 
utes in  the  direction  of  the  ridge.  At  length  I  saw  something 
coming  toward  the  top.  'It's  a  horseman,'  I  shouted.  Yes, 
sure  enough,  there  was  a  man  on  horseback,  but  only  one.    The 


160  JOHN  Monroe's  story 

sun  was  going  down  and  he  was  seven  miles  away ;  we  could 
not  discern  him  distinctly,  but  we  could  see  that  he  was  com- 
ing at  a  pretty  good  clip.  Suddenly  another  appeared.  He 
must  have  been,  as  we  should  judge,  a  mile  behind  the  first 
one.  Oh,  how  I  hoped  one  of  them  would  be  the  man  we 
wanted,  but  the  doctor,  like  most  of  the  people  out  here,  wore 
the  same  costume — flannel  shirt  and  broad-brimmed  hat — so 
we  were  still  in  doubt.  At  last,  when  the  first  rider  came  clear 
into  view,  I  noticed  he  had  something  fastened  to  his  saddle. 
'It's  a  leather  case!  It's  him,  doctor!  Come  on!'  I  shouted, 
as,  I  waved  my  hand  towards  them. 

"  'Come  on !  Come  on !'  I  was  crazy.  I  had  seen  that  Ran- 
dal had  changed  horses  with  Bowen,  giving  him  the  mare. 
Bowen  saw  me  waving  my  arms  and  he  shook  his  whip  at  us, 
then  laid  it  on  the  mare's  side,  as  if  to  show  us  he  was  coming 
as  fast  as  he  could,  on  the  best  piece  of  blooded  stock  in  the 
West.  Stockwell  was  no  slouch,  either,  but  now  he  was  fully 
two  miles  behind. 

"Well,  I  ran  to  the  gate  to  meet  the  doctor.  One  of  the  boys 
that  was  standing  near  held  the  horse  while  he  vaulted  off. 
'Hurry  up,  doctor.'  'What's  the  trouble?'  'My  wife.'  He 
ran  into  the  house,  case  in  hand.  I  began  to  feel  a  little  easy. 
He  shook  hands  with  Doctor  Gibbs.  They  both  went  into  the 
room  where  she  was  lying,  attended  by  Miss  Piatt. 

"After  a  few  minutes  Bowen  came  out  and  into  the  room 
where  I  was,  followed  by  Gibbs.  When  I  saw  them  my  heart 
failed  me. 

"  'I  am  afraid  of  the  worst,  Mr.  Monroe.  I  hope  we  are  not 
too  late,  but  she  is  a  very  sick  woman.' 

"  'Do  your  best,  doctor,'  I  implored  him. 

"They  operated  on  her,  but  peritonitis  had  already  set  in. 
'No  earthly  power  can  save  her.'  said  Bowen  to  Gibbs.  Gibbs 
shook  his  head. 

"I  thought  my  heart  would  break.  She  lingered  until  the 
next  day  and  died  in  my  arms  without  the  rights  of  her  church, 
but  that  mattered  little.  I  don't  believe  she  ever  had  a  sinful 
thought. 

"T  first  thought  of  taking  her  remains  to  New  York,  but  she 


JOHN  Monroe's  storv  161 

had  no  one  there,  so  I  buried  her  on  a  favorite  spot,  where  she 
and  Virgie  often  sat  and  pulled  wild  flowers.  I  have  had  the 
ground  consecrated.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  stay  just  where 
I  was,  and  wait  the  day  when  I  would  be  laid  beside  her." 

Scully,  who  had  listened  with  breathless  interest  during 
Monroe's  narrative,  felt  a  creepy  sensation  over  him.  ''It  was 
very  sad,"  he  said,  "but  what  became  of  the  child  ?" 

"Oh,  she  lived  and  grew  into  the  very  image  of  her  mother 
in  form  and  feature,  though  much  more  robust.  In  that  she 
takes  after  me. 

"The  nurse  we  had,  and  myself,  took  care  of  her.  The  men 
on  the  ranch,  rough  crowd  as  they  are,  never  had  such  sport 
as  when  they  were  playing  with  her.  When  she  was  five  years 
old  they  would  put  her  in  front  of  them  and  gallop  over  the 
plains  with  her.  It  was  her  delight.  When  she  was  seven 
she  used  to  ride  her  own  pony,  and  lots  of  trouble  she  gave  me. 
It  was  the  mischief  to  keep  track  of  her ;  she  thought  nothing 
of  galloping  over  the  ranch.  Well,  that  was  all  right,  but  she 
began  to  take  long  rides  into  the  mountains.  One  day  I  saw 
her  on  the  top  of  Eagles'  Nest.  I  got  mad  and  sent  one  of  the 
men  to  go  bring  her.  I  gave  her  a  pretty  strong  lecture.  She 
laughed  in  my  face,  and,  jumping  on  my  lap,  told  me  not  to  be 
angry  with  her,  it  was  such  a  nice  view  from  the  top  of  the 
hill,  and  so  it  was.  I  warned  the  men  that  in  future  one  had 
always  to  keep  her  in  sight.  As  this  was  a  pleasant  occupation, 
when  they  weren't  busy  she  used  to  have  an  escort  of  half  a 
dozen  of  them.  I  used  to  teach  her  in  the  evening,  and  so  did 
the  nurse.  She  got  on  very  well,  but  when  she  reached  the 
age  of  fifteen  and  I  saw  the  budding  woman,  I  hardly  knew 
what  to  do  with  her.  .She  was  now  my  constant  companion ; 
we  rode  together,  and  whenever  I  went  to  town  I  took  her 
with  me.  The  men.  rough  and  uncouth  as  they  are,  always 
showed  her  marked  respect.  She  had  been  brought  up  with 
them  and  was  beginning  to  be  very  much  like  them,  always  in 
the  saddle.  She  was  delighted  to  join  in  the  round-up  and 
could  handle  a  lasso  with  the  best  of  them — a  pretty  fair  ac- 
complishment for  a  rancher's  daughter,  you  would  think — but 
it  didn't  suit  me.    You  see,  I  was  forty  years  old  when  I  went 


162  •    JOHN  Monroe's  story 

cattle  raising,  and  I  went  into  it  for  business  purposes.  Be- 
sides, she  was  a  little  too  reckless.  She  would  ride  into  the 
herd,  or  pursue  a  young  steer  over  all  kinds  of  ground.  Some- 
times I  used  to  hold  my  breath  and  feel  my  hair  raise,  to  see 
the  young  madcap  galloping  after  a  Texas  steer,  with  his  horns 
a  yard  long  and  nearly  as  sharp  as  a  lead  pencil  at  their  ends. 

"So  one  day,  after  she  had  given  me  an  extra  scare,  I  says 
to  myself,  'I  will  ship  you,  madam!'  It  was  pretty  tough  on 
me  to  do  it.  but  my  mind  was  made  up.  When  I  broke  the 
news  to  her  there  was  a  hullaballoo  and  flood  of  tears,  of 
which,  on  the  quiet,  I  shed  half  myself,  taking  care  that  she 
didn't  see  me.  So  I  wrote  to  the  Sisters  of  the  Loretto  Con- 
vent, Canada,  making  all  arrangements,  and  I  took  her  to  them. 
All  the  way  she  was  lamenting.  When  we  went  to  the  train 
all  the  cowboys  for  about  forty  miles  around  formed  an  escort. 
I  do  believe  if  she  had  given  the  word  that  she  didn't  want  to 
go,  there  would  have  been  a  rescue  party  that  even  my  influ- 
ence could  hardly  have  checked. 

"This  parting  made  her  worse.  As  the  train  started  they  all 
emptied  their  guns.  Such  shooting  and  shouting  was  never 
heard  in  Montana.    It  was  like  a  Battle  in  the  Wilderness. 

"We  spent  a  day  at  Niagara.  She  looked  so  miserable  I 
began  to  think  that  the  people  thought  I  was  kidnaping  her. 
Some  of  them  did  look  pretty  hard  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say, 
'This  case  will  bear  investigation,'  so  that  when  I  landed  her 
into  the  corral  at  the  convent  I  felt  somewhat  relieved.     Of 

course,  there  was  a  scene  at  the  parting,  but  Sister said 

she  would  soon  be  all  right. 

.  "Well,  every  vacation  she  had,  I  always  went  down  to  see 
her,  took  her  to  Washington,  New  York,  Atlantic  City,  or 
wherever  she  wanted  to  go.  We  always  spent  it  together. 
She  began  to  like  the  convent  so  well  I  was  afraid  (another 
source  of  anxiety)  she  would  want  to  stay  there.  On  one  oc- 
casion she  began  to  tell  me  how  happy  the  Sisters  were,  and 
what  a  good  life  they  led.  I  pricked  up  my  ears.  'You  grad- 
uate this  summer?'  I  said. 

"  'Yes,  papa.' 

"'Do  you  think  you'll  pass?' 


THE  WILD  AND  WOOLLY  WEST  .  163 

"  'At  the  head  of  the  class.' 

"I  went  down  to  see  the  wind-up,  and,  sure  enough,  my  girl 
took  the  blue  ribbon.  I  felt  as  if  I  would  have  to  kiss  Mother 
Superior,  but,  you  know,  that  wouldn't  do.  As  it  was,  when 
I  was  shaking  hands  with  her  at  the  parting,  she  felt  something 
in  the  palm  of  her  hand,  which,  after  looking  at  it,  she  said, 
'May  God  bless  you ;  I  will  put  it  to  a  good  use.' 

"Well;  my  Virgie  went  there  a  rough  diamond,  and  they 
turned  her  out  the  finished  product.  I  think  you'll  agree  with 
me  when  you  see  her." 

Scully  made  no  reply,  but  thought  he  would. 

"Well,  Mr.  Monroe,  we'll  soon  be  losing  you,"  remarked  the 
conductor,  who  happened  to  be  passing  at  the  time. 

"Why,  where  are  we?"  said  Monroe,  looking  out  the  win- 
dow. "Dear  me,  how  quickly  this  afternoon  has  passed ! 
Come,  Mr.  Scully,  let  us  begin  to  pack  up.  The  station  after 
the  next  is  ours." 


Chapter  XX    ' 

THE  WILD  AND  WOOLLY  WEST. 

As  Monroe  stepped  off  the  train,  followed  by  Scully,  who 
was  carrying  a  couple  of  grips,  a  young  woman  rushed  for- 
ward and  kissed  Monroe  affectionately.  "How-do,  Randal," 
he  said,  speaking  to  a  man  who  was  following  close  behind  the 
girl;  "anything  new  while  I've  been  away?" 

"No,  sir,  nothing  particular." 

"Mr.  Scullv,  mv  daughter;"  the  latter  bowed  gracefully. 

"Mr.  Randal,  Mr.  Scully." 

"Pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Scully." 

"Virgie,"  said  Monroe,  continuing,  "this  is  a  friend  of  mine 
from  Chicago.  He  has  come  to  stay  with  us  for  a  while,  so 
we  will  have  to  try  and  make  it  as  pleasant  for  him  as  possible." 

"Then  I  am  afraid  he  will  find  it  dull  out  here,"  she  said, 
smiling. 

"O,  I  don't  know,"  said  Monroe.    "It  will  be  a  change  for  him, 


164  THE  WILD  AND  WOOLLY  WEST 

and  he  will  probably  like  it.  He  has  a  contract  with  me,  any- 
how, that  when  he  gets  tired  we  have  to  ship  him  back." 

"I  don't  think  I  am  likely  to  get  tired  for  some  time,"  said 
Mike.  "I  like  the  look  of  the  country,  and  as  your  father  is 
such  good  company.  I  think  I'll  get  on  all  right." 

"That's  the  way  to  talk,"  chimed  in  Randal;  "probably  Mr. 
Scully  may  like  it  as  well  as  any  of  us  when  he  is  here  awhile." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Monroe.    "Randal,  where's  the  outfit?" 

"Across  the  river,  sir." 

The  depot  master  and  a  few  men  who  were  lounging  around 
on  the  platform  came  forward  and  Monroe  introduced  them  to 
Scully  in  turn.  Mike  could  see  that  most  of  them  were  plains- 
men, and  felt  pleased  with  the  warm  shake  of  the  hand  they 
gave  him. 

"He's  a  little  new  to  this  country,  boys,"  said  Monroe,  talk- 
ing to  them.     "See  that  you  treat  him  white." 

"No  fear,"  replied  one  of  them,  good-naturedly. 

"Well,  let  us  be  going;  Randal,  give  Virgie  her  coat  and 
you  take  one  of  those  grips." 

At  the  point  where  our  travelers  left  the  train  the  railway 
skirts  the  Yellowstone  river.  It  was  but  a  short  distance  to 
the  water,  where  they  found  a  colored  boy  standing  by  a  boat 
that  was  partly  pulled  up  on  the  bank. 

"How  are  you,  George^"  was  Monroe's  salutation  when 
they  reached  him.  "How  have  they  been  treating  you  while 
I've  been  away?" 

"All  right,  Massa ;  Miss  Virgie  always  treats  me  right." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that." 

George  pushed  the  boat  a  little  further  into  the  water. 

"Get  in,"  said  Monroe,  looking  at  Scully.  "Go  and  sit  at 
the  stern  there.    I'll  sit  by  you,"  as  Randal  handed  in  the  grips. 

Miss  Monroe  followed  them  and  sat  down  on  the  seat  to  be 
occupied  by  the  rower,  taking  the  sculls  in  her  hands.  Randal 
following,  occupied  a  seat  in  front.  George  pushed  the  boat 
into  the  water  until  he  saw  it  was  floating  and  then  jumped 
with  his  knees  on  the  stem,  where  he  perched  himself. 

The  river  was  wide  and  the  current  strong.  Scully  could  not 
help  admiring  the  girl  for  the  skillful  manner  she  plied  the  oars. 


THE  WILD  AND   WOOLLY   WEST  165 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  girl,  Mr.  Scully  ?"  said  Monroe, 
jokingly. 

Mike  was  not  at  liberty  to  say  half  what  he  thought  of  her ; 
he  remembered  Monroe's  story  of  her  when  a  girl,  a  madcap 
galloping  wildly  over  the  prairies,  shouting  at  the  cattle,  just 
as  he  supposed  bull-whackers  and  cow-punchers  to  do.  He 
couldn't  believe  that  this  was  the  same  girl,  her  neat  attire  a 
combination  between  the  dress  of  the  cow-girl  and  the  lady, 
her  wide-brimmed  felt  hat  with  broad  green  band,  becomingly 
placed  on  a  luxuriant  head  of  hair  parted  in  the  middle  and 
bound  with  a  black  ribbon  at  the  back  in  one  massive  switch ; 
an  embroidered  waist  with  collar,  around  her  neck  a 
fine  gold  chain  with  cross  pendant,  her  only  jewelry,  a  little 
bufif  jacket  and  skirt  the  same  color,  high-laced  gaiters.  Her 
foot  was  small,  as  was  her  ankle,  but  from  Mike's  position  in 
the  boat  he  could  not  but  observe  the  commencement  of  a  well- 
rounded  calf,  indicating  strength. 

Mike  hardly  knew  what  to  say  in  reply  to  Monroe's  joking 
inquiry  as  to  what  he  thought  of  his  girl. 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  a  little  too  hard  work  for  her  pulling 
against  the  current,"  Mike  ventured. 

Miss  Monroe  smiled  at  him  as  she  plied  the  oars  with  in- 
creased vigor.  As  she  reached  the  opposite  bank  she  ran  the 
boat  up  on  the  little  beach  which  served  as  a  landing  place. 
George  jumped  out  and  fastened  the  boat  to  a  post.  A  party 
of  some  dozen  were  waiting  for  them.  It  was  the  typical  cow- 
boy outfit,  rough-looking  men  with  broad-brimmed  hats, 
handkerchief  tied  around  their  necks,  flannel  shirts,  some  blue 
and  others  brown ;  they  all  wore  chaps ;  on  the  heels  of  their 
boots  they  had  villainous-looking  spurs ;  their  horses,  some- 
what larger  than  the  average  mustang,  had  rough  coats  with 
the  exception  of  one  animal  which  a  man  was  holding  by  the 
bridle.  This  superb  horse  seemed  restless,  pawing  the  ground 
with  his  hoof,  tossing  his  head,  and  occasionally  moving  from 
side  to  side.  There  was  a  buckboard  with  a  horse  hitched  to 
it  standing  on  one  side. 

"How  are  you.  boys?"  said  Monroe,  as  he  straightened 
himself  up  after  getting  out  of  the  boat 


166  THE   Wir.D  AND   WOOLLY   WEST 

Scully  reached  his  hand  to  Miss  Monroe,  who  jumped  lightly 
out  of  the  boat,  her  face  a  little  flushed  by  the  exercise.  She 
vvas  somewhat  dark,  probably  the  result  of  exposure  to  the 
sun.  On  her  cheeks  there  was  a  ruddy  glow,  her  eyes  bright — 
the  picture  of  robust  health. 

On  landing  she  went  and  relieved  the  man  that  was  holding 
the  horse,  which  sniffed  the  air  and  shook  his  head  vigorously 
as  if  greeting  her. 

Monroe  introduced  the  men  to  Scully,  telling  them  that  he 
was  a  particular  friend  of  his  that  was  coming  to  stay  with 
them  for  a  while.  Nearly  all  shook  hands  with  him.  Monroe 
went  over  to  where  Virgie  was  holding  the  horse.  "Hello, 
Juno,  girl,"  he  said,  as  he  extended  his  hand  towards  the 
horse's  head.  She  shied  away  from  him.  "Hey,  forgot  me 
already?"  The  horse  gazed  at  him  for  a  second  or  two, 
brought  its  ears  back,  her  wide  nostrils  sniffing  and  expanding, 
then,  seeming  to  recognize  him,  came  and  placed  her  head  on 
his  shoulder. 

"Good  old  girl,"  he  said,  as  he  stroked  down  her  neck. 

"Well,  let  us  be  going;  Scully,  you  get  in  there;  George, 
you'll  have  to  get  on  behind — I'm  going  to  drive."  Every  man 
jumped  into  his  saddle  like  a  well  drilled  cavalry  trooper.  Miss 
Monroe  holding  the  lines  in  the  hand  with  which  she  grasped 
her  horse  by  the  mane,  placed  her  foot  in  the  English  stirrup 
and  vaulted  into  the  saddle  without  any  seeming  effort,  her 
impatient  horse  bounded  forward,  she  checked  it,  while  the 
cavalcade  got  started — Monroe  in  the  buckboard  bringing  up 
the  rear. 

It  was  a  bright,  clear  day  in  the  latter  part  of  December, 
the  sun  shone  out  refulgently  in  a  cloudless  sky.  As  they 
drove  along,  Scully  thought  he  could  feel  the  bracing  air  en- 
tering his  lungs. 

Monroe  kept  chatting  to  him,  pointing  in  the  direction  of 
the  bluffs,  the  peaks  and  the  different  trails.  There  was  what 
appeared  to  Mike  a  few  farmers'  houses  here  and  there,  and 
as  they  went  along  Monroe  told  him  whom  they  belonged  to— 
they  were  small  ranchers. 

"How  far  have  we  to  go?"  inquired  Mike. 


THE   WILD  AND   WOOLLY   WEST  167 

"Do  you  see  that  gap  in  the  mountain?"  pointing  straight 
ahead. 

"Yes." 

"Just  five  miles  the  other  side  of  that;  it  is  fifteen  miles 
from  the  river." 

"It's  a  delightful  ride,"  was  Mike's  reply,  as  he  leaned  back 
against  the  rest  on  the  buckboard.  He  could  see  Miss  Mon- 
roe's horse  prancing  along,  restrained  by  her  guiding  hand. 
Randal  rode  alongside  of  her.  Mike  felt  a  sense  of  jealousy. 
The  girl  seemed  to  be  chatting  with  the  group  on  each  side  of 
her  and  those  behind  her.  As  they  entered  the  pass,  Monroe 
pointed,  saying,  "This  is  Stranglers'  Gulch." 

"Not  a  very  prepossessing  name,"  Mike  replied.  At  this 
moment  they  came  to  a  place  where  trails  crossed ;  there  was 
a  low-sized  building  with  a  sign  on  it,  "Cowboys'  Rest."  It 
had  a  large,  barn-like  structure  in  the  rear  and  a  number  of 
outhouses. 

"Black  Jack  Murry  keeps  the  place,"  said  Monroe ;  "there's 
where  the  boys  blow  in  their  earnings.  It's  a  good  place  to 
keep  away  from."  As  they  were  passing,  a  number  of  people 
came  to  the  door,  amongst  them  a  few  girls  in  short  skirts. 
They  waved  their  hands  to  some  of  the  men  on  horseback. 
Miss  Monroe,  Mike  noticed,  turned  her  head  away  from  the 
house.  "She  has  no  use  for  that  bunch,"  thought  Mike.  As 
the  buckboard  was  passing,  Mike  noticed  that  all  the  girls 
were  looking  toward  him — they  had  observed  the  stranger. 
Some  of  the  men  took  off  their  hats  to  Monroe. 

"Some  of  my  fellows,"  said  Monroe.  "It's  pretty  hard  to 
keep  them  out  of  that  shebang." 

"I  suppose  so,"  replied  Mike. 

As  they  reached  the  highest  point  of  the  elevation  they  came 
in  sight  of  a  wide,  extensive  valley.  They  were  then  going 
due  west.  On  their  right  at  a  distance  Mike  could  see  a  large 
growth  of  trees  and  a  house  seemed  at  that  distance  to  be  lo- 
cated in  the  center  of  them. 

"That's  our  place,"  said  Monroe,  pointing  it  out  to  him. 

Over  the  plains  in  different  parts  there  were  vast  herds  of 
cattle;  near  the  foothills  on  the  opposite  side  were  flocks  of 


168  THE   WILD  AND   WOOLLY   WEST 

sheep  browsing;  everything  seemed  so  calm  and  quiet  As 
they  approached  nearer  Mike  saw  that  the  building  that  he  had 
first  observed  was  some  little  distance  from  the  trees  and  was 
in  close  proximity  to  a  number  of  other  structures.  Further 
away  were  a  multiplicity  of  haystacks — there  seemed  hundreds 
of  them.  There  were  corncribs  in  abundance.  The  roaring  of 
a  bull  and  the  grunting  of  pigs  became  plainly  audible,  in  con- 
trast to  the  peace  and  tranquility  that  was  so  apparent  but  a 
few  minutes  before.  As  they  rode  and  drove  through  a  gate 
which  led  into  the  enclosure  Mike  got  a  front  view  of  the 
house.  It  was  a  commodious  two-story  frame  building,  built 
in  the  colonial  style.  On  the  front  porch  stood  a  woman  about 
forty  years  of  age,  three  girls  and  two  men.  The  men  on 
horses  dismounted,  George  running  forward  and  catching  Juno 
by  the  lines,  led  her  away. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Piatt,"  said  Monroe,  as  he  ascended 
the  few  steps  that  led  to  the  porch.  "I  hope  you  have  supper 
ready." 

"Yes,  sir;  everything  is  ready." 

"How  are  you,  boys  and  girls?"  said  Monroe,  addressing 
those  who  were  standing  on  the  porch.  "Come  in,  Scully." 
Scully  had  no  sooner  got  in  than  his  nose  was  assailed  with 
the  smell  of  eatables.  He  thought  of  the  parable  of  the  fatted 
calf,  and  would  have  made  a  wager  at  the  time  he  could  eat  it, 
hoofs,  horns  and  all. 

"Mr.  Scully,  probably  before  we  sit  down  to  supper  you 
would  like  to  wash  up  a  bit?" 

"Yes,  sir.    T  believe  I  would  be  a  little  better  for  it." 

"George,  show  Mr.  Scully  to  my  room;  carry  up  those 
grips." 

Mike  followed  the  colored  boy  upstairs.  The  room,  large 
and  commodious,  was  Monroe's  bedroom,  and  there  was  every 
convenience.  Mike  washed,  brushed  his  hair  carefully  and 
put  on  a  clean  collar,  whisked  some  of  the  dust  from  his 
clothes,  so  that  when  he  returned  to  where  the  company  was 
waiting  for  him,  his  appearance  was  considerably  improved. 

"Come,  let  us  eat."  said  Monroe ;  "but  first  let  me  introduce 
you  to  Mrs.  Thompson.     Mr.  Scully,  this    is    the    lady    who 


THE   WII.D  AND  WOOLLY  WEST  169 

keeps  house  here."  Mrs.  Thompson  was  an  elderly  woman, 
with  grayish  hair.  She  shook  hands  with  Mike  in  a  motherly 
fashion,  and  hoped  he  would  like  Montana. 

Two  other  men  had  come  in  during  Mike's  absence.  They 
were  introduced  to  him  as  Jerry  Smith  and  Sylvester  Stone. 

Miss  Monroe  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table.  "You  sit  there, 
Mr.  Scully,"  said  Monroe,  pointing  to  a  seat  on  Miss  Monroe's 
left.  '*!  always  think  a  man  has  a  better  show  when  he  gets 
near  the  head  of  the  table."  Monroe  sat  opposite  Mike,  Mrs. 
Thompson,  Miss  Piatt.  Randal,  Stone,  and  Smith  at  the  same 
table.    George  and  a  girl,  by  name  Sally  Jones,  served. 

The  supper  was  of  the  most  substantial  character,  roast 
meat  with  Yorkshire  pudding,  boiled  ham  and  a  variety  of 
vegetables.  Miss  Monroe  was  assiduous  in  her  attention  to 
Scully,  "Now,  young  man,"  Monroe  said,  talking  to  him,  "I 
want  to  give  you  the  same  advice  I  give  to  all  the  new  men  we 
get  out  here.  You  see,  we  give  all  the  help  so  much  and  their 
board,  so  I  tell  them  the  more  they  eat  the  more  wages  they 
get." 

'T  believe  I  am  starting  out  on  that  principle  already,"  Mike 
replied,  laughing. 

"Fill  out  that  beer,"  said  Monroe. 

"Yes,  sir."  George  commenced  with  Monroe  and  went 
around  the  table,  until  he  came  to  Scully,  who  told  him  he 
would  not  take  any. 

"Can't  you  take  a  glass  of  beer?"  inquired  Monroe,  looking 
over  at  him. 

"No,  thank  you ;  I  prefer  the  collfee." 

Miss  Monroe  looked  at  him  approvingly. 

During  the  meal  Monroe  chatted  sociably  with  those  as- 
sembled. He  noticed  his  daughter  pressing  Scully  to  eat.  "She 
was  sure  he  had  not  eaten  heartily."  Mike  could  never  re- 
member eating  so  much.  John  Monroe's  story  had  so  inter- 
ested him  that  they  had  overlooked  the  lunch  hour,  and  the 
fifteen  miles'  ride  over  hill  and  plain  had  given  Mike  a  superb 
appetite.  "Never  mind  him,"  said  Monroe,  addressing  his 
daughter ;  "when  we  have  him  out  here  for  about  a  month  he'll 
be  able  to  eat  without  coaxing." 


170  THE  WILD  AND  WOOLLY  WEST 

"I  think  I  have  secured  an  appetite  already,"  said  Mike, 
smiling,  "judging  from  the  meal  I've  eaten," 

"Randal,  what's  good  for  indigestion?"  inquired  Monroe, 
grinning  over  at  him,  and  then  smiling  at  his  daughter. 

"I  only  know  one  infallible  remedy,  sir;  it  never  failed  me." 

"Then  whisper  it  to  George,  but  don't  let  Miss  Piatt  hear 
you."  Randal  grabbed  George  by  his  curly  hair  and,  pulling 
him  down,  whispered  something  into  his  ear.  George  grinned 
all  over  his  face. 

"Yes,  sir."    He  went  out  and  returned  with  a  gallon  jug. 

"Now,  are  you  sure  that  is  the  right  thing?" 

Randal  pulled  out  the  cork,  and,  smelling  the  contents,  said, 
"Yes,  that's  the  stufif."    Miss  Monroe  smiled  at  Scully. 

Randal  half  filled  a  tumbler  and  told  George  to  take  that 
over  to  his  master. 

Monroe  took  a  mouthful,  smacked  his  lips  and  remarked, 
"It's  not  bad  to  take,  anyway." 

Randal  poured  a  little  into  his  own  glass  and  handed  the  jug 
to  Smith  and  Stone,  who  each  took  a  liberal  portion.  Stone 
looked  over  at  Mike,  who  shook  his  head. 

"You'll  take  a  little  nip,  Mrs.  Thompson?"  said  Monroe  to 
the  lady  who  was  sitting  next  him.  She  would  take  just  a 
little. 

Supper  over.  "Now,"  said  Monroe,  "if  I  had  a  smoke  I 
think  I  could  survive  until  breakfast  time." 

Miss  Monroe  rose,  asking  the  gentlemen  to  excuse  them, 
and  the  ladies  retired.  A  box  of  cigars  was  handed  around 
and  the  five  men  began  to  smoke. 

"Any  trouble  since  I've  been  away?"  inquired  Monroe. 

"Not  much,"  said  Stone  in  reply;  "a  little  scrap  over  at 
Murry's.  One  of  the  Stringer  men  got  shot,  but  he's  not  much 
worse,  they  say." 

"Had  much  frost  out  here?"  was  Monroe's  next  inquiry. 

"Very  little,"  Randal  answered.  "It's  been  particularly 
mild.    It  looks  as  if  we  might  have  an  open  season." 

"We  put  up  a  few  more  shelter  sheds  while  you've  been 
gone,"  chimed  in  Smith. 

"That's  good." 


THE  WILD  A^D  WOOLLY   WEST  171 

"We  were  never  better  prepared  for  the  winter,"  continued 
Smith. 

The  sound  of  a  piano  could  be  heard.  "Let's  go  into  the 
parlor,"  said  Monroe,  rising.  "Maybe  Virgie  will  play  us  a 
tune.  It  may  help  to  keep  this  young  fellow's  spirits  up.  I 
suppose  he's  already  fretting  for  the  girl  he  left  behind  him." 

Scully  laughingly  remarked,  "That's  one  of  the  least  of  my 
troubles." 

"Why,  do  you  want  to  tell  us  there  isn't  some  Chicago  belle 
that  you're  not  a  little  anxious  about?" 

"Not  that  I  can  remember,  Mr.  Stone." 

"Well,  women  are  a  pretty  scarce  commodity  out  here,"  re- 
marked Smith;  "that  is,  the  kind  of  woman  a  fellow  would 
care  to  hitch  up  with.  Of  course,  we  have  a  number  of  one 
kind  that  it's  good  to  keep  away  from."  Reaching  the  parlor, 
the  conversation  stepped. 

On  entering  the  parlor,  Miss  Monroe,  who  was  sitting  at 
the  piano,  turned  around  and  faced  the  gentlemen.  Mrs. 
Thompson  and  Miss  Piatt  were  with  her.  Monroe  seated  him- 
self in  a  leather  arm  chair.  "Be  seated,  gentlemen,"  he  said, 
as  he  sat  down. 

George  came  in  and  placed  a  couple  of  logs  in  a  capacious 
open  fireplace,  where  the  fire  was  burning  brightly,  after  which 
he  retired. 

"Play  us  a  tune,  Virgie,"  said  the  girl's  father.  The  girl, 
like  all  other  girls,  was  diffident,  and  required  some  coaxing. 
Probably  the  stranger  present  embarrassed  her  somewhat. 
"Never  mind  this  Chicago  man,"  her  father  said  to  her,  jok- 
ingly; "he's  probably  not  much  of  a  judge  of  music,  anyway." 
In  response  to  her  father's  pressing,  the  girl  turned  around 
and  played  a  selection  from  the  "Bohemian  Girl"  with  taste 
and  precision,  which  convinced  Scully  that  her  musical  educa- 
tion had  not  been  neglected. 

"Good  girl,"  her  father  said  at  the  conclusion.  "Now  play 
us  a  little  something  nearer  home."  She  arranged  her  music 
and  played  the  "Suwanee  River,"  with  variations.  As  her 
nimble  fingers  ran  over  the  keys,  Mike  gazed  intently  on  her. 

He  had  never  met  her  like  before.     As  she  struck  the  final 


172  THE  WILD  AND  WOOLLY  WEST 

note,  she  turned  around  on  the  stool.  Randal,  Stone  and 
Smith  gave  vent  to  their  enthusiasm  in  lavish  praise.  Her 
father  looked  at  Scully  as  much  as  to  say,  "What  do  you  think 
of  my  girl  ?"    Mike  didn't  dare  say  half  he  thought. 

"Do  you  play,  Mr.  Scully?"  the  girl  inquired. 

"No,  miss ;  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  is  not  my  good  fortune,  but 
I  must  say  you  play  splendidly."  She  bowed  in  answer  to  the 
compliment. 

Randal  asked  her  to  sing  a  song. 

Miss  Monroe  made  the  regular  number  of  excuses  that  seem 
to  be  customary  with  young  ladies  who  know  they  can  sing, 
but  at  last  gave  way  to  the  pressing  of  the  men,  and,  to  her 
own  accompaniment,  sang  the  "Last  Rose  of  Summer"  in  a 
rich  soprano  voice,  and  with  excellent  taste.  Mike  thought  of 
the  dubs  he  had  heard  in  the  concert  hall  in  Denver,  as  a  con- 
trast to  the  splendid  voice  and  accomplished  manners  of  this 
pure,  wholesome  girl,  in  this  wild  country  far  removed,  as  it 
were,  from  civilization.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  song,  he 
could  not  suppress  his  enthusiasm.  As  she  turned  around  on 
the  revolving  piano  stool  to  face  her  admirers,  there  was  an 
audible  snore  from  the  direction  in  which  Mr.  Monroe  was 
sitting.  She  laughed  as  all  present  looked  in  the  direction  of 
the  owner  of  the  ranch. 

"I  guess  the  show's  over  for  the  night,"  said  Randal.  "It 
seems  the  manager  has  other  business." 

"Well,  father  is  tired,"  said  the  girl,  apologizing;  "likely 
you  didn't  get  much  sleep  last  night,  Mr.  Scully  ?" 

"I  slept  fairly  well." 

"You  see,  father  is  used  to  going  to  bed  early." 

"I  guess  it's  near  time  we  all  go,"  chimed  in  Stone.  It  was 
then  a  few  minutes  past  nine. 

"Wake  father,  Mr.  Randal." 

Randal  shook  Monroe.  "Hello,  that  chorus  of  yours  is  out 
of  tune."  , 

"What  time  is  it?"  sitting  up.  "Oh,  excuse  me,"  he  said, 
looking  around. 

"Did  you  like  that  last  song,  papa?"  his  daughter  said, 
smiling. 


THE   WILD  AND   WOOLLY   WEST  173 

"Yes,  what  was  it?" 

The  entire  company  laughed.  Monroe,  knowing  that  they 
were  laughing  at  his  answer,  remarked,  "I  know  it  was  all 
right,  anyway.  Do  any  of  you  fellows  want  a  night-cap?  If 
you  do,  come  into  the  kitchen.  Mrs.  Thompson,  have  you 
found  a  place  to  plant  Mr.  Scully  for  tonight?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  come  along  boys."  He  kissed  his  daughter.  "Good- 
night, ladies."  , 

Reaching  the  kitchen,  he  shouted  lustily,  "George !  George ! 
George !    Darn  that  fellow,  v/here  is  he  ?" 

George  came  running  in,  rubbing  his  eyes.  "Taking  a 
snooze,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  sah." 

"George,  bring  out  the  gray  hen."  Monroe  and  his  three 
foremen  each  took  a  drink. 

"George,  you'll  take  care  of  Mr.  Scully  and  show  him  to  his 
room." 

"Yes",  sah." 

"Well,  good-night." 

The  three  men  shook  hands  very  sociably  with  Scully  on 
leaving. 

Nine-thirty  found  Scully  rolled  in  between  sheets  as  white 
as  snow.  He  thought  to  himself,  "If  this  was  in  Chicago,  it 
would  look  like  going  to  bed  in  the  middle  of  the  day."  He 
stayed  awake  for  a  few  minutes,  thinking  over  the  events  of 
the  past  two  weeks.  He  offered  up  a  silent  prayer,  thanking 
God  for  his  deliverance,  turned  over  and  was  soon  sound 
asleep. 


Chapter  XXI 


THE   GRAND   RECKPTION   AND   BALL   OF   THE   BIG   FIVE. 

The  night  of  the  dance  of  the  "Five  Jolly  Boys"  had  arrived. 
The  managing  committee  was  at  the  hall  early,  a  few  of  the 
details  that  could  not  be  arranged  previously  had  to  be  at- 
tended to,  the  wet  goods  to  be  conveniently  placed  and  beer 
tapped.  When  this  stage  was  reached,  Bert  wanted  to  know 
"What  the  hell  was  keeping  Hooligan?  He  promised  to  be 
here  early  and  lend  a  hand." 

"Never  mind,"  replied  Mort.    "Squinty  can  tap  the  beer." 

"Where's  the  badges?"  inquired  Hart. 

"In  that  parcel  on  the  counter."  Hart  proceeded  to  open 
the  package,  and,  taking  the  badges  out,  read  off:  "Chairman 
of  Managing  Committee,  here  Henry ;  Chairman  of  Refresh- 
ment Committee  and  Treasurer,"  he  laid  that  aside.  It  was 
an  elaborate  affair  of  green  and  gold,  with  a  harp  and  sham- 
rock engraved  on  it.  "Let  me  see  that,"  asked  Bert.  "Well, 
it's  a  bute,"  looking  at  it  admiringly.  "When  the  big  mut  gets 
that  pinned  on  his  breast  he'll  think  he's  the  Lord  knows  who. 
How  much  did  it  cost,  Henry?" 

"One  twenty-five." 

"It's  a  shame,"  cried  Bert. 

"Good  biz,"  said  Rock.  "When  Hooligan  gets  that  he'll 
feel  he's  the  whole  show  and  will  give  up  freely,  especially  if 
Moll's  with  him." 

"Here  he  is  now,"  said  Mort,  as  he  spied  Hooligan  coming 
along  with  a  big  bowzer  of  a  woman  trailing  behind  him. 

"We  were  just  talking  about  you." 

"Why,  what  were  they  saying.  Bert?" 

"Well,  some  of  them  said  you  had  ducked  and  maybe 
wouldn't  come."   He  winked  at  Mort  as  he  made  the  assertion. 

"Duck  nothing!     You  know.  Henry,  I  never  duck." 

"Not  that  I  ever  heard  of.  How  do  you  do,  Moll  ?"  to  the 
lady,  who,  it  seemed,  was  well  known  to  the  group. 

174 


GRAND  RECEPTION  AND  BALL  OF  THE  BIG  FIVE  175 

"You  never  knew  me  to  duck,  did  you,  Moll  ?"  looking  over 
at  Miss  Runt. 

"Not  that  you'd  notice  it,"  replied  Moll. 

"O.  they  v^ere  only  saying  that  you  were  a  little  late,"  re- 
marked Phipps. 

"Late  nothing,"  pulling  out  his  watch;  "it's  only  half-past 
eight  now." 

"Come  over  here,  you  big  stiff,"  shouted  Hart,  who  was 
holding  a  badge  in  his  hand.  Hooligan  went  to  where  Hart 
was  standing.  "Stand  up  straight  till  I  pin  this  on  you."  It 
nearly  covered  the  left  side  of  Hooligan's  breast.  "What  do 
you  think  of  that?    Go  look  at  yourself  in  the  glass." 

Hooligan  did  as  told. 

"That's  what  the  fellows  think  of  you,"  said  Bert. 

Hooligan  looked  at  himself  admiringly  in  the  glass,  his  red 
face  shining  like  a  full  moon.  He  turned  around  to  Moll 
Runt,  so  that  she  might  share  in  admiration  of  his  grandeur 
and  importance. 

"Come,  now,  business,"  said  Mort.  "Hooligan,  you  have 
charge  of  the  booze.  Rock  will  help  you.  Joe,  you'll  go  be- 
hind the  bar  to  make  change.  Bert  will  relieve  you  and  help 
to  keep  an  eye  on  the  waiters  to  see  they  don't  give  us  the 
worst  of  it." 

"Where's  the  bartenders  and  waiters?"  inquired  Hooligan. 

"They're  sitting  out  in  the  hall  waiting  for  you.  I'm  going 
to  the  cashier's  office.  I  see  the  crowd  is  beginning  to  come. 
O'Connor,  are  your  five  men  here  ?" 

"Yes,  we're  ready,"  replied  the  master  musician. 

"Well,  then,  you'd  better  start  up  a  little  toot ;  I  see  some  of 
them  are  getting  impatient."  With  this  instruction,  Mort  left 
to  take  whatever  cash  would  come  in,  not  a  heavy  job,  as  most 
of  the  tickets  that  had  been  distributed  were  complimentary, 
with  the  exception  of  those  bought  under  pressure,  by  expect- 
ant office-seekers  and  public  utility  corporations — these  latter 
bought  a  goodly  number,  as  the  "Grand  Reception,  Carnival 
and  Ball"  had  its  inception  in  Great's  ward,  and  on  his  account 
these  astute  business  men  were  willing  to  contribute  liberally 
to  so  praiseworthy  a  cause.    There  were  also  a  number  sold  to 


176  GRAND  RECEPTION  AND  BALL  OF  THE  BIG  FIVE 

Storekeepers  who  didn't  intend  to  go,  but  gave  the  tickets  to 
their  young  men  customers.  Saloon-keepers  in  Great's  own 
ward  who  intended  to  be  present  wouldn't  buy  tickets.  They 
were  going  to  be  there  anyhow,  and  would  give  their  contri- 
butions over  the  bar,  and  as  all  the  beer  and  liquor  had  been 
donated,  better  returns  would  be  expected  from  them  than 
from  those  in  the  same  line  of  business  who  bought  a  few 
tickets,  but  who  wouldn't  grace  the  assemblage  by  their 
presence. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  crowd  began  to  gather,  at  first  in  twos 
and  threes,  but  at  half-past  nine  there  was  a  steady  stream 
coming  in. 

Bert  was  kept  busy  at  the  head  of  the  steps  collecting  tickets. 

The  young  men  and  women,  many  of  the  latter  in  short 
skirts,  retired  to  the  ladies'  dressing-room,  and  some  who  had 
hats  and  cloaks  deposited  them  in  care  of  the  woman  in  charge 
of  the  ladies'  wardrobe. 

The  band  kept  playing ;  the  more  impatient  took  to  the  floor 
and  to  the  music  of  waltz  or  schottische  began  to  dance. 

Up  to  this  time  there  was  little  doing  at  the  bar,  but  the 
waiters  on  the  outside  were  serving  a  few  drinks  to  parties 
who  were  seated  at  tables  at  one  end  of  the  hall. 

It  was  near  ten  when  Florence  arrived.  She  came  upstairs 
with  a  few  girls  she  had  met  at  the  door  and  who,  like  herself, 
were  employed  at  the  great  Cleveland  Store.  On  entering  she 
walked  around  with  the  purpose  of  finding  a  place  remote 
from  the  crowd  where  she  could  obtain  a  good  view  of  the  pro- 
ceedings.   Noticing  Margy,  she  went  and  sat  down  beside  her. 

Florence  had  no  hat  on ;  just  a  fine  woolen  shawl  over  her 
head,  which  she  took  ofif  on  taking  her  seat,  her  splendid  head 
of  hair  in  two  long  braids  hanging  down  below  her  waist  line, 
her  fair  face  and  beautiful  eyes  shining  radiantly  as  she  viewed 
the  gay  scene. 

Morris  Cohan  spotted  her  as  soon  as  she  entered.  He  ap- 
proached her,  and,  in  a  manner  intended  to  be  very  winning, 
requested  the  honor  of  having  her  as  a  partner  for  the  next 
dance. 

"I  never  danced  in  my  life,  Mr.  Cohan,  so  you  will  have  to 


GRAND  RECEPTION  AND  BALL  OF  THE  BIG  FIVE  177 

excuse  me.  I  am  very  thankful  to  you  for  asking  me."  Seeing 
that  it  was  futile  to  persist  in  further  pressing,  he  sought  and 
obtained  another  partner  and  was  soon  seen  whirling  around 
with  her  in  a  waltz.  That  number  over,  the  gentlemen  con- 
ducted their  partners  to  seats,  which  were  arranged  around 
the  hall.    A  few  went  to  seek  refreshments  at  the  bar. 

The  next  number  on  the  programme  was  a  quadrille.  There 
was  a  general  rush,  but  one  young  man  in  particular  attracted 
Florence's  attention.  He  was  shouting  "Two  more  couples 
here,  now  look  lively,  here  you  are,  now  this  way!" 

Florence  could  not  keep  her  eyes  off  him  as  he  continued 
shouting,  "One  more  couple  here ;  now  look  alive."  Seeing 
some  young  men  who  seemed  as  if  waiting  for  partners  that 
were  not  forthcoming,  the  busy  young  man  rushed  over  to 
where  a  number  of  girls  were  sitting.  "Come,  now,  girls; 
here,  young  fellow,"  and  away  two  trotted  without  any  formal 
introduction.  At  a  signal  from  the  young  man,  who  was  no 
less  a  personage  than  Red  Hart,  the  band  struck  up  the 
"Prairie  Queen"  quadrille. 

"Salute  your  partners,"  shouted  a  person  on  the  stage. 

Florence  looked  in  his  direction. 

"Ladies  join  hands,  all  forward,  circle  half  around,  right 
and  left  to  places,  circle  half  around,  grand  right  and  left  to 
place,  all  waltz,"  and  the  young  men  grasped  the  girls  and 
whirled  them  round  in  a  most  hilarious  manner.  If  one 
slipped  and  nearly  fell,  her  young  man  grabbed  her  in  time, 
and  the  whole  set  laughed. 

The  next  number  was  a  schottische.  The  floor  was  now 
crowded,  and  as  nearly  every  pair  bumped  every  other  pair, 
Florence  thought  it  was  very  funny.  In  this  dance  Florence 
recognized  her  two  girl  friends  as  taking  part,  Miss  Brown 
and  Miss  Jones  giving  her  a  smile  and  nod  of  recognition  as 
they  went  whirling  by  on  the  arms  of  their  partners. 

The  young  man  who  had  attracted  Florence's  attention  as 
being  so  important  had  a  partner  in  this  dance.  Florence  was 
surprised  to  see  how  he  could  steer  his  lady  to  the  right  or 
left,  so  as  to  escape  colliding  with  others.  She  said  in  her 
mind,  he  must  be  a  very  fine  dancer. 


178  GRAND  RECEPTION   AND  BALL  OF  THE  BIG  FIVE 

The  next  on  the  programme  was  a  wahz.  _  Red  was  busy 
introducing  couples  and  encouraging  them  to  dance.  He  had 
occasion  to  come  around  where  Florence,  Margy  and  a  num- 
ber of  other  girls  were  sitting,  and  as  he  did  he  spied  Margy. 

"Hello,  Margy,  how  are  you?    Enjoying  yourself,  I  hope?" 

"Naw ;  I've  only  had  one  dance." 

"How's  that?"  At  this  moment  his  eyes  lighted  on  Flor- 
ence. He  was  struck  by  her  remarkable  beauty,  and  Margy, 
noticing  it,  introduced  them,  "Mr.  Hart,  my  friend,  Florence 
Burdett."  Red  bowed.  "Pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance. 
Miss  Burdett." 

Florence  bowed  and  smiled  in  acknowledgment. 

"She  doesn't  dance  at  all,"  continued  Margy. 

"That's  too  bad ;  you  can't  learn  sooner,  miss ;  but  why  don't 
you  dance,  Margy?"  , 

"Well,  you  see,  they've  got  Rock  stuck  up  in  that  old  bar, 
and  as  all  the  fellows  know  I'm  his  steady,  I'm  not  much 
wanted." 

"O,  never  mind,  Margy,  I'll  trot  you  a  heat  or  two  before  the 
night  is  over,  and  T  hope.  Miss  Burdett,  you'll  warm  up.  You 
get  her  a  partner,  Margy."  Florence  smiled  and  deplored  her 
inability  to  join  in  the  merriment. 

"You'll  excuse  me,  ladies,"  and  he  took  his  departure. 

"Who  is  he?"  inquired  Florence  when  he  was  gone. 

"Why,  dat's  Red  Hart." 

"What  is  he?    Is  he  the  manager?" 

"Yes,  he's  the  floor  manager.    He's  a  fine  fellow." 

"He  looks  like  a  nice  young  man,"  was  Florence's  reply. 

Just  at  this  moment  there  was  a  commotion  at  the  entrance 
to  the  hall.  Some  one  shouted  "Hurrah  for  Great,"  Most  of 
the  men  moved  in  that  direction,  a  few  commenced  to  clap 
their  hands. 

Florence  heard  a  young  man  shout,  "Red,  is  dat  de  alder- 
man?" 

"Yes,"  said  Red  in  reply :  "there'll  be  something  doing  now." 
In  a  brief  time  three-fourths  of  the  ladies  sat  alone. 

There  was  a  suspension  of  about  twenty  minutes  after  the 
arrival  of  the  alderman,  to  give  him  an  opportunity  to  make 


GRAND  RECEPTION  AND  BALL  OF  THE  BIG  FIVE  179 

the  acquaintance  of  the  bar.  HooHgan  had  him  in  tow,  acting 
as  a  kind  of  body-guard. 

"You've  a  good  crowd  here  tonight,"  said  the  alderman, 
scanning  the  company. 

"Yes,"  replied  HooHgan.  "a  fine  crowd,  alderman ;  there's 
lots  of  our  people  here." 

"Is  that  so?  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  Well,  come;  let's  have  a 
drink.  How-do,  Joe,"  this  was  to  Phipps,  who  sat  on  a  little 
elevation  behind  the  bar  receiving  the  money. 

"Good  evening,  alderman." 

The  alderman  pulled  out  a  roll  and  laid  a  twenty-dollar  bill 
on  the  counter,  asked  those  present  to  have  a  drink  with  him. 
The  twenty  was  handed  over  to  Joe,  who  placed  it  in  a  cigar 
box  in  which  he  had  the  receipts.  "What  will  you  have,  alder- 
man?" inquired  one  of  the  waiters. 

"A  small  beer." 

"Stand  back  there,"  shouted  Hooligan,  as  a  number  of  cus- 
tomers who,  in  their  impetuosity  to  grab  the  first  thing  that 
was  placed  on  the  counter,  began  to  crowd  the  alderman. 
"Come,  look  lively,"  was  Hooligan's  next  command  to  the  men 
behind  the  bar,  who  were  filling  up  beer  as  fast  as  possible, 
but  in  no  way  keeping  pace  with  the  crowd,  who  were  seizing 
it  as  soon  as  opportimity  offered. 

"Give  me  a  cigar,"  said  one  who  was  accepting  the  alder- 
man's treat. 

A  bartender  handed  the  box  for  the  man  to  take  one  out. 
and  a  dozen  hands  were  extended  toward  the  box  at  once.  The 
cigars  were  labeled  "Fleur  de  Elegantes."  They  were  well 
known  to  the  trade  as  "Pennsylvania  stinkers,"  and  were 
nearly  as  vile  as  some  of  the  statesmen  of  that  commonwealth 
founded  by  William  Penn. 

"Here's  to  you,  alderman,"  said  Hooligan,  as  he  lifted  his 
glass. 

The  alderman  smiled  as  he  nodded. 

"The  best  in  the  land,"  said  Hooligan  in  an  audible  whisper 
to  those  next  to  him.  "Hurrah  for  Great,"  shouted  a  number  of 
the  young  men,  who  had  their  hats  on  and  their  overcoats  on 
their  arms,  not  having  the  price  of  the  wardrobe. 


180  GRAND  RECEPTION  AND  BALL  OF  THE  BIG  FIVE 

Red  Hart  whispered  to  Hooligan  that  it  was  about  time  to 
commence  the  grand  march. 

Hoohgan  broke  the  news  to  the  alderman.  "I'm  ready ;  I 
suppose  you've  selected  me  a  partner?" 

'"Yes,"  said  Hooligan;  "Aliss  Runt." 

Rock  threw  off  his  apron  in  a  hurry,  and  rushed  out  to  find 
Margy,  who,  on  account  of  his  official  duties,  he  had  neglected 
all  evening. 

"So  you've  come  at  last,"  as  she  turned  up  her  snub  nose. 

"Come  along,"  was  his  reply,  as  he  jerked  her  from  her 
seat  so  as  to  be  well  up  in  front. 

"Take  partners  for  the  grand  march,"  shouted  the  man  on 
the  stage,  who  had  got  his  cue  from  Hart. 

Alderman  Great  appeared,  coming  from  the  ladies'  room, 
with  Miss  Runt  on  his  arm,  followed  by  Hooligan  with  a  big 
blonde  who  had  on  a  verv  low-cut  dress. 

Red  Hart  was  busy  getting  them  in  line.  He  spied  Miss 
Burdett  sitting  alone.  "Here,  Smithy,"  he  shouted  to  a  young- 
ster of  about  nineteen  years  of  age,  "come  here."  They  ap- 
proached Florence.  "You  take  this  young  lady."  Florence 
was  embarrassed.     "No,  Mr.  Hart,  I  would  rather  look  on." 

"Oh,  come,  miss,"  said  Hart,  gently  taking  her  by  the  arm, 
and  before  she  could  offer  further  objection  she  was  in  line 
on  the  arm  of  Smithy,  who  at  least  looked  clean,  as  he  had 
only  been  a  few  days  out  of  the  bridewell. 

Hart  sandwiched  her  and  Smithy  in  behind  Rock  and 
Margy,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  the  young  couple  who  had 
that  choice  place. 

"Where  are  you  putting  them?"  cried  the  young  lady. 
"Why  don't  you  make  them  go  back?" 

Hart  looked  at  her  first,  and  then  at  her  escort,  in  a  manner 
that  suppressed  any  further  objections. 

The  band  struck  up  the  first  bar  of  "El  Capitana."  Red 
Hart,  who  stood  facing  the  alderman  and  Miss  Runt,  held  up 
his  two  arms  and  then  lowered  them  as  a  signal,  and  the  grand 
march  was  on. 

The  long  line  reached  nearly  around  the  hall,  and  the  march- 
ers made  one  complete  circuit  till  the  head  of  the  procession 


GRAND  RECEPTION  AND  BALL  OF  THE  BIG  FIVE  181 

reached  the  stage  for  the  second  time,  where  the  couples 
parted,  ladies  to  the  right,  gentlemen  to  the  left.  As  Florence 
marched  along  she  felt  as  if  every  one  was  looking  at  her.  As 
she  passed  a  point  where  a  group  of  young  men  with  their  hats 
on  and  their  overcoats  on  their  arms  were  standing,  she  heard 
one  of  them  remark,  "Twig  the  one  with  the  braids — she's  a 
peach,  isn't  shei""  "She's  a  La  La,"  said  another.  Florence 
had  no  knowledge  what  this  meant,  but  it  turned  her  face  scar- 
let. She  felt  relieved  when  she  met  her  escort  at  the  point 
farthest  from  the  stage,  and  taking  his  arm  followed  the  lead- 
ers up  the  center  of  the  floor  until  they  reached  the  stage, 
where  one  couple  was  turned  to  the  right  and  one  to  the  left, 
and  again  reaching  the  limit  of  the  hall  they  came  up  the  center 
in  fours.  Reaching  the  stage,  the  alderman,  Hooligan  and 
their  two  ladies  turned  to  the  right.  Rock  with  Margy  and 
Smithy  and  Florence  to  the  left.  Hart  paid  special  attention 
to  see  that  Florence  was  steered  in  the  right  direction.  She 
kept  her  eyes  on  him  as  if  he  was  the  only  guide ;  she  watched 
his  every  motion. 

Joining  again  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  they  formed  in  eights 
Hart  walked  in  front  of  them,  turning  occasionally  as  if  to  see 
that  the  line  was  preserved  in  proper  formation.  He  looked 
approvingly  at  Florence.  As  the  eights  had  to  divide  at  the 
stage,  many  were  confused  as  to  what  direction  they  should, 
go.     Florence  was  bewildered. 

"This  way.  Miss  Burdett — splendid,"  Hart  remarked  to  her, 
as  Smithy  dragged  her  in  the  right  direction.  As  she  turned 
she  noticed  Miss  Jones  and  Miss  Brown  with  their  young  gen- 
tlemen seemed  at  a  loss  to  know  which  way  to  go.  She  laughed 
heartily,  as  Bert,  who  had  come  to  Hart's  assistance,  had  to 
put  them  right.  Around  again,  until  the  limit  of  the  hall  was 
reached,  where  the  eights  joined.  As  the  sixteens  came  up 
the  center  of  the  hall  the  musicians  seemed  to  play  with  in- 
creased vigor.  Hart,  who  faced  the  marchers,  waved  his 
hands,  keeping  time  to  the  music.  He  looked  straight  at  Flor- 
ence, who  then  occupied  a  central  position  in  the  front  row. 
He  seemed  to  be  devoting  special  attention  to  her.  She  felt 
the  influence  of  his  mentorship.     Those  on  the  outskirts  who 


182  GRAND  RECEPTION   AND  BALL  OF  THE  BIG  FIVE 

had  not  joined  in  the  march  and  those  in  the  gallery  began  to 
applaud  as  the  solid  columns  advanced. 

"Well  done,  Hart,"  resounded  through  the  hall.  Hart  had 
no  time  to  acknowledge  their  approbation.  Florence  was 
elated — she  never  felt  so  happy  in  her  life.  She  prided  herself 
she  had  done  well.  On  they  came  till  they  reached  the  stage, 
Hart  clapped  his  hands  together,  and  the  grand  march  was 
over. 

There  was  loud  applause.  Hart  bowed  his  acknowledgment. 
"Form  for  a  quadrille,"  shouted  the  prompter  on  the  stage. 
There  was  a  rush  in  all  directions.  Hart  seized  Florence  by 
the  arm,  brushing  Smithy  aside,  and  before  she  knew  what  he 
was  going  to  do  with  her  she  found  herself  side  by  side  with 
him,  facing  Rock  and  Margy,  the  alderman  and  Miss  Runt, 
with  Hooligan  and  the  big  blonde  forming  a  square,  waiting 
for  the  music  to  play  the  quadrille,  "Welcome." 

"I  am  sure,  Mr.  Hart,  I  cannot  dance ;  you  should  let  me  go.'* 

"Never  mind ;  I'll  take  care  of  you." 

"Salute  your  partners,"  shouted  the  man  on  the  stage. 

Hart  turned  her  so  she  faced  him.  He  bowed  gallantly  to 
her ;  she  nodded  her  head.  "Forward  and  back,"  he  took  her 
by  the  hand  and  they  stepped  forward  to  meet  Rock  and 
Margy,  who  had  advanced  toward  them.  "Waltz,"  he  placed 
his  arm  around  her  waist  and  spun  her  around  a  few  times. 

"Change  partners,"  he  threw  her  into  the  alderman's  arms, 
the  blonde  at  the  same  time  placing  her  arms  around  Hart's 
neck.  "Ladies'  chain,"  he  deposited  her  just  where  she  should 
be.  "Join  hands  and  circle,"  "Ring  around,"  he  caught  her 
by  one  hand,  the  alderman  caught  the  other  and  she  could 
hardly  keep  her  feet ;  her  head  was  in  a  whirl. 

The  quadrille  over,  she  was  perspiring  profusely,  partly  the 
result  of  her  exertions  and  partly  of  her  embarrassment. 

"Splendid,  Miss  Burdett;  you  did  fine,"  said  Hart,  smiling 
at  her. 

She  had  not  breath  enough  to  answer  him. 

"Take  partners  for  the  supper  march — supper  is  being 
served  on  the  next  floor,"  shouted  O'Connor.  "There  will  be 
a  recess  of  half  an  hour." 


GRAND  RECEPTION   AND  BALL  OF  THE  BIG   FIVE  183 

Rock  and  Margy  stood  within  a  few  feet  of  them.  Rock 
asked  Margy  if  she  had  the  price.     "I  have." 

"You're  going  to  supper,  aren't  you,  Red?" 

"Sure!  Miss  Burdett,  may  I  have  the  pleasure?" 

Florence  did  not  know  what  to  say. 

"I'm  going,  Florence,  come  along,"  said  Margy. 

Hart  tucked  Florence  under  his  arm,  and  followed  by  Rock 
and  Marg)',  they  went  up  to  the  dining-room. 

The  alderman  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  Miss  Runt  by  his 
side,  Hooligan  still  had  the  big  blonde. 

"Hart,  you  did  first  class !  I  never  saw  a  grand  march  better 
conducted." 

"Thank  you,  alderman." 

"Who  is  that  girl  he  has  with  him?"  whispered  the  alder- 
man to  Miss  Runt. 

"I  don't  know,  I  have  never  seen  her  before." 

"She  is  a  splendid  girl,"  said  the  alderman,  "I  don't  think 
she  is  over  seventeen?" 

"I  don't  think  she  is,"  remarked  Miss  Runt,  "but  she  will 
soon  learn  a  thing  or  two  if  she  keeps  company  with  Red." 

The  alderman  laughed. 

"Hart,  I  am  going  to  treat  you  for  the  way  you  took  care 
of  me  in  the  march."    Hart  smiled  his  acknowledgment. 

I'he  alderman  looked  around  as  if  picking  out  his  immediate 
friends  and  then  whispered  something  to  the  waiter. 

The  waiter  returned  in  a  short  time  with  three  quart  bottles 
of  champagne  and  a  dozen  glasses ;  four  of  the  glasses  were 
placed  before  Hart,  Rock  and  their  two  lady  friends ;  the 
waiter  popped  the  cork,  which  flew  to  the  ceiling,  and  then 
filled  their  glasses.  "I  dare  not  drink  that,"  Florence  remarked 
to  Margy. 

"Why,  dat's  just  like  ginger  ale." 

"I  never  drink  anything." 

"Just  try  it,"  said  Rock,  "there's  not  a  bit  of  harm  in  it." 

Florence  placed  it  to  her  lips  and  took  a  sip. 

"Miss  Burdett,  you  need  not  be  afraid,  it  will  refresh  you 
after  the  exercise.  Let  me  compliment  you  on  your  first  effort 
at  dancing." 


184  GRAND  RECEPTION  AND  BALL  OF  THE  BIG  FIVE 

"My  regards,  alderman,"  Hart,  Rock  and  Alargy  lifted  their 
glasses  as  they  looked  towards  the  city  father,  Florence  fol- 
lowed their  example  mechanically,  and  drank  about  half  of 
her  glass.     The  other  three  drained  theirs  to  the  last  drop. 

"You  don't  know  what's  good  for  you."  remarked  Margy 
looking  over  at  Florence.  They  went  on  with  their  supper. 
Florence  ate  heartily,  she  had  never  been  out  so  late  before, 
and  had  partaken  of  little  at  supper-time,  on  account  of  the 
excitement  of  preparing  for  the  dance. 

"Drink  your  wine,"  said  Hart  to  her.  She  finished  her  glass. 

Supper  over,  they  returned  to  the  ball-room  just  in  time  to 
hear  the  man  on  the  stage  call  oflf  the  next  number — it  was  a 
waltz. 

Hart  placed  his  arm  around  Florence's  waist  and  before  she 
could  object  she  found  herself  whirling  around.  Hart  was  an 
expert  dancer,  and  seemed  as  if  he  could  guide  her  footsteps. 
She  was  young  and  supple  and  ere  the  dance  was  half  over 
she  felt  herself  gliding  along  under  the  guidance  of  his  strong 
arms.  The  music  stopped,  there  was  a  loud  applause.  The 
band  responded  to  the  encore  and  the  dance  began  again ;  when 
it  was  over,  Hart  conducted  Florence  to  her  seat.  She  was 
heated  and  felt  the  exhilaration,  partly  the  result  of  the  cham- 
pagne she  drank. 

When  Hart  left  she  turned  to  Marg}\  "Dear  me,  what  time 
is  it?    I  must  go  home;  mother  will  be  awful  angry  with  me." 

"Why,  it's  early  yet,"  replied  Margy,  "who'd  think  of  going 
home  at  this  time?" 

"Yes,  but  I  had  to  promise  my  mother  I  would  be  home 
early  or  she  would  not  let  me  come.  She  is  alone  and  I 
must  go." 

"Wait  until  the  next  dance ;  here's  Mr.  Hart  coming.  What 
do  you  think.  Red  "^    She  wants  to  go  home." 

"Why,  it's  quite  early  yet,  Miss  Burdett." 

"But  I  must  go." 

"Ah !  my  favorite.  Come,  Miss  Burdett,  you  must  give  me 
this  dance." 

"No,  I  must  go  home." 

"Well  this  will  onlv  take  a  few  minutes,"  and  with  this  re- 


THE  WINE  ROOM  185 

mark  he  pulled  her  gently  on  to  the  floor.  The  dance  over, 
an  encore  was  demanded,  and  away  they  went  to  the  merry 
strain. 

Hart  conducted  her  to  her  seat. 

"I  must  go,  Mr.  Hart,  I  am  sure  you  have  been  very  kind 
to  me,  but  I  must  go  home,  I'm  frightened  to  think  what  my 
mother  will  say ;  you  need  not  come,  Margaret ;  I  can  go 
home  alone." 

"Well,  then  if  you're  determined  to  go,"  said  Hart,  "we 
must  see  you  part  of  the  way — just  wait  till  I  get  my  hat." 

Florence  was  lamenting  that  she  had  ever  come. 

"I  am  sure,  Margaret,  I  would  never  have  thought  of  such 
a  thing,  if  I  had  known."    Hart  and  Rock  joined  the  two  girls. 

"You're  not  going,"  said  Mort,  as  they  passed  the  door  on 
the  way  out,  "No,  only  going  to  show  this  young  lady  part  of 
the  way  home." 

"Here,  Hart,"  shouted  Mort  calling  after  him, 

"I've  no  time,"  replied  Hart  impatiently. 


Chapter  XXII 

THE  WINE  ROOM. 

Hart  and  Florence  Burdett,  followed  by  Rock  and  Margy, 
walked  up  Milwaukee  avenue  after  leaving  the  hall.  Hart 
was  lavish  in  his  praise  of  Florence's  first  effort  at  dancing. 

"And  she  said  she  never  danced  before !"  remarked  Rock, 
laughing. 

"No,  I  never  did,"  replied  Florence,  in  an  emphatic  tone. 

"Then  you  did  remarkably  well,  Flo,"  said  Margy,  "the 
next  dance  we  go  to  you'll  be  all  right,  won't  she.  Red?" 

Florence  was  in  too  great  a  state  of  anxiety  on  account  of 
being  out  so  late  to  appreciate  their  compliments,  fear  of  her 
mother's  censure  stilled  her  tongue. 

Hart  chided  her  for  being  so  gloomy. 

Milwaukee  avenue  was  well  lit  up,  especially  in  the  neigh- 


186  THE  WINE  ROOM 

borhood  of  the  hall.  There  was  a  liberal  administration,  and 
the  closing  hours  of  the  saloons  depended  upon  the  prospect 
of  business.  The  dance  of  the  "Jol^y  Five"  had  livened  things 
up  in  the  neighborhood,  people  were  coming  and  going. 

At  that  time  there  was  a  saloon  kept  by  a  leading  politician 
who  stood  well  with  the  powers  that  were — he  had  long  since 
thrown  away  the  key  of  his  front  door.  As  they  were  about 
to  pass  the  place.  Hart  said  "We  will  go  in  here  and  have  a 
drink ;  a  friend  of  mine  keeps  this  place,"  Florence  wanted  to 
bid  them  good-night. 

"Come  on,"  said  Rock,  "we  won't  stay  but  a  minute  or  two, 
and  then  we'll  see  you  home." 

Florence  was  now  in  a  state  of  abject  alarm,  not  that  she 
had  any  fear  from  her  escort — Hart  had  been  so  nice  and 
Margy  was  with  her.  Margy  went  in  ahead,  Florence  followed 
very  reluctantly — she  was  feverish  in  her  anxiety. 

There  were  a  number  of  men  drinking  at  the  bar,  some  of 
them  were  boisterous,  Florence  felt  like  running  out. 

"Hello,  Hart,"  shouted  the  landlord  from  behind  the  counter, 
"I  understand  you  have  a  gay  crowd  at  the  dance." 

"Yes,  quite  a  number.    It's  a  great  success." 

"So  I  hear." 

Hart  went  toward  the  rear  where  there  were  a  number  of 
compartments.  He  laid  his  hand  on  the  knob  of  the  first  door 
he  came  to. 

"There  is  a  party  in  there,"  said  the  waiter  that  was  follow- 
ing them. 

"That's  all  right !"  this  remark  was  in  reference  to  the  next 
compartment  Hart  tried.  He  opened  the  door  and  ushered  the 
two  girls  in  ahead  of  him.  Rock  following.  Ere  they  were 
seated  the  waiter  was  there  to  take  their  order. 

"What'll  you  have,  Rock?  I  think  Fll  take  some  rye,  I 
feel  a  little  chilled  coming  out  of  that  warm  place." 

"Make  mine  rye,  too,"  said  Rock. 

"What  will  you  have,  Margy?" 

"Fm  going  to  have  a  milk  punch." 

"What  will  you  take,  Miss  Burdett  ?"  turning  around  to  her. 
She  was  sitting  on  his  right. 


THE  WINE  ROOM  187 

"I  won't  take  anything  at  all.    I  am  not  dry." 

"Why,  surely,  you  wouldn't  take  a  shingle  off  a  man's  roof?" 
said  Rock  with  a  grin.  As  this  was  Greek  to  her,  she  made 
no  reply. 

"You  must  have  something,"  said  Hart  entreatingly. 

"Well,  I'll  have  some  milk,  like  Margaret." 

"Bring  two  rye  whiskeys,  and  two  milk  punches,  and  be  sure 
and  put  plenty  of  milk  in  this  young  lady's" — referring  to 
Florence.     As  he  said  this  he  winked  at  the  waiter. 

The  waiter  returned  with  two  whiskies  in  small  glasses,  with 
other  two  containing  water,  and  two  small  sized  tumblers  con- 
taining a   white  liquid. 

"How  much?" 

"A  dollar,"  please. 

"My !  but  you're  steep."     Hart  gave  him  the  dollar. 

Margy  drank  the  best  of  hers  off  at  a  gulp.  "My,  but  that's 
fine,"  she  said.  Florence  took  a  mouthful  of  hers — she 
shivered. 

"I  don't  like  that."    The  rest  laughed  at  her. 

"It's  not  near  as  nice  as  the  other  drink  we  got  at  the  sup- 
per table." 

"It  doesn't  cost  as  much!"  said  Rock,  "only  aldermen  and 
millionaires  can  pay  for  that  kind  of  drink." 

"Is  that  very  dear?"  inquired  Florence. 

"About  four  dollars  a  bottle,"  answered  Hart.  Florence 
thought  for  a  moment ;  nearly  two  weeks'  pay  in  the  Cleveland 
store. 

"The  alderman  must  get  a  very  large  salary." 

"Three  dollars  a  week,"  said  Rock,  with  a  grin. 

"Is  that  all?" 

"That's  all,"  answered  Hart. 

"Come,  I  must  go  home!"  said  Florence  rising. 

"Finish  your  drink,"  suggested  Hart. 

"I  don't  care  for  it;  it's  not  nice." 

"Drink  it  up,"  said  Hart,  "and  we'll  go." 

Florence  drank  it,  it  brought  on  a  fit  of  coughing,  she  had 
to  sit  down.  "Excuse  me,"  said  Margy,  "I'll  be  back  in  a 
minute." 


188  THE  WINE  ROOM 

Florence  had  a  thought  of  where  she  was  going,  but  her 
modesty  would  not  permit  her  to  inquire.  Rock  followed  her 
out,  pulling  the  door  close  after  him. 

Florence  looked  at  Hart,  his  face  was  flushed.  He  seemed 
to  have  undergone  a  change.  He  caught  her  in  his  arms,  she 
struggled  to  free  herself,  and  tried  to  scream,  but  he  had 
placed  one  hand  over  her  mouth.  He  threw  her  to  the  floor. 
Tn  doing  so.  a  chair  was  upset,  the  table  was  pushed  aside.  In 
her  desperation,  she  tried  to  bite  his  hand.  He  held  her  as  in 
a  vice.     Her  struggles  were  in  vain. 

The  waiter  outside  heard  the  noise.  He  looked  over  at  the 
man  behind  the  bar. 

"Something  doing,"  remarked  the  groggery  keeper,  with 
a  grin. 

"What  will  you  have,  gentlemen?"  he  said  to  a  couple  of 
customers  who  claimed  his  attention. 

In  a  few  minutes  Hart  put  his  head  out  of  the  door,  "Bring 
me  a  glass  of  soda."  He  stood  in  the  doorway,  holding  the 
door  nearly  closed  until  it  was  brought. 

Rock  and  Margy  came  from  another  room ;  Rock  picked  up 
the  chair  that  had  been  upset.  "What's  the  matter]^"  inquired 
Margy,  in  feigned  surprise,  as  she  saw  Florence  with  her 
head  on  the  table  sobbing  bitterly. 

Hart  was  trying  to  induce  her  to  take  a  drink  of  the  soda 
water — she  was  deaf  to  his  entreaties. 

"What's  the  matter?"  again  asked  Margy.  "Don't  make  a 
show  of  us,"  she  said,  shaking  Florence  by  the  shoulder. 

Florence  arose,  tears  streaming  from  her  eyes,  "Oh  dear 
me !  oh  dear  me !"  she  wailed.  "Shut  up,"  said  Margy,"  do 
you  want  the  people  to  hear  you  ?" 

Florence  rushed  to  the  door,  Rock  stopped  her.  "Compose 
yourself  a  little  before  you  go." 

"Let  me  out,"  she  screamed. 

"Well,  if  you  want  to  go,  go,"  said  Rock,  opening  the  door. 

Florence  ran  through  the  bar  and  out  into  the  street.  For  a 
moment  she  was  in  doubt  which  way  to  turn.  She  went  to  the 
right,  any  way  to  escape  that  temple  of  personal  liberty !  that 
hell !   Her  hair  was  disheveled,  her  dress  was  soiled,  she  was  an 


THE  WINE  ROOM  189 

object  of  sympathy  that  would  have  melted  the  heart  of  any 
but  such  demons  as  kept  institutions  of  the  kind  from  which 
she  was  fleeing,  and  such  men  or  monsters  were  leading  fac- 
tors in  the  social  and  political  affairs  of  our  city  at  the  time 
of  which  we  write. 

Reaching  Halsted  street  she  looked  for  a  moment  to  see  if 
she  was  right,  and  then  turned  south.  A  great  fear  came  over 
her,  she  trembled  in  every  limb ;  but  on  she  went.  She  thought 
she  heard  footsteps  following  her — and  so  there  were. 

When  she  ran  out  of  the  saloon  Hart,  Rock,  and  Margy 
came  to  the  door  and  looked  the  way  she  was  going. 

"She  will  get  lost,"  said  Hart. 

"She'll  find  her  way  home,"  replied  Rock. 

"Where  does  she  live?"  inquired  Hart. 

"Somewhere  about  Thirty-fifth  street.  I  don't  know  just 
where,"  was  Margy 's  answer. 

"She'll  never  find  her  way  home — I'll  follow  her." 

"Let  her  go,"  said  Margy,  "we're  missing  the  dance." 

Hart  started  after  her.  He  daren't,  approach  her,  he  would 
keep  her  in  sight. 

In  the  still  morning  she  could  hear  footsteps  behind  her,  she 
started  to  run,  but  was  soon  exhausted  and  had  to  walk. 

On  her  reaching  the  long  viaduct  over  the  railway  tracks, 
she  looked  into  the  darkness,  it  was  like  entering  into  a  tunnel. 
She  hesitated,  but  for  a  moment,  fearing  to  go  forward.  The 
footsteps  sounded  nearer,  she  hastened  on.  and  as  she  went 
she  imagined  she  saw  forms  lurking  behind  some  of  the  up- 
rights. A  cold  sweat  came  over  her  brow,  but  on  she  must 
go,  as  the  footsteps  sounded  more  distinct  than  ever  on  the 
wooden  walk.  She  bent  every  effort  her  fast  failing  strength 
would  permit. 

A  new  terror  confronted  her — some  one  was  approaching. 
As  she  drew  nearer  she  could  hear  the  maudlin  voice  of  a 
man  raving  to  himself.  She  halted  for  a  moment,  but  the 
footsteps  in  the  rear  were  coming  closer,  she  started  ahead  in 
the  darkness.  She  saw  a  man  a  few  feet  from  her — he  seemed 
to  observe  her  at  the  same  time,  he  prepared  to  grab  her  as  she 
tried  to  pass  him  on  the  narrow  footpath.     She  ran  into  the 


190  THE  WINE  ROOM 

roadway,  striking  her  head  against  one  of  the  iron  braces  of 
the  viaduct  as  she  left  the  sidewalk.  It  partly  stunned  her,  she 
staggered  for  a  few  paces,  and  after  walking  some  distance 
over  the  rough  cobblestones,  she  again  sought  the  sidewalk. 
She  heard  angry  voices  behind  her,  an  oath,  and  a  blow ;  she 
judged  by  the  sound  that  some  one  had  been  sent  sprawling 
into  the  middle  of  the  road.  She  again  tried  to  run,  but  only 
for  a  few  yards,  when  she  was  compelled  to  slacken  her  pace. 
She  listened — yes,  there  were  the  footsteps  again,  they  seemed 
to  be  coming  more  rapidly.  Gaining  the  end  of  the  viaduct 
she  saw  in  the  distance  a  few  lights  ahead — she  felt  a  measure 
of  relief;  she  was  approaching  Lake  street;  she  could  discern 
a  group  standing  on  the  corner — she  felt  some  security  on  ac- 
count of  their  numbers,  as  she  approached  she  saw  that  there 
were  three  coarse  colored  women  talking  to  a  white  man.  As 
she  passed  the  man  spoke  to  her,  she  hurried  on,  paying  no 
attention  to  what  he  said.  She  reached  Madison  street.  A 
policeman  stopped  her.    "Where  are  you  going?" 

"Home,  sir,"  her  teeth  chattering  while  she  was  trembling 
in  every  limb. 

"What  are  you  doing  out  this  time  of  night  ?" 
"I  have  been  to  a  party,  sir.    I  didn't  know  it  was  so  late." 
"Well,  hurry  on,  then.     If  I  catch  you  around  here  again, 
I'll  run  you  in." 

She  walked  as  fast  as  her  poor  limbs  would  carry  her,  she 
thought  she  would  sit  down — she  was  afraid  she'd  faint.  She 
listened  while  she  walked,  the  sound  of  the  footstep  was  plainly 
to  be  heard,  she  crossed  Blue  Island  avenue ;  after  that  all  was 
as  quiet  as  the  grave,  except  the  sound  of  the  footstep.  She 
began  to  wonder  if  it  was  imagination ;  she  listened — no,  there 
could  be  no  mistake. 

She  reached  Halsted  street  bridge,  she  stopped  and  looked 
down  into  the  water.  A  thought  came  into  her  mind,  she 
hesitated ;  then  shuddered ;  she  listened,  the  footstep  had 
ceased.  She  crossed  the  bridge  and  was  near  where  the  rail- 
way tracks  crossed  the  street,  she  thought  she  heard  the  foot- 
step again.  As  she  had  her  head  turned  she  had  not  observed 
the  tracks,  her  toe  struck  the  rail.    She  stumbled  and  fell.  The 


THE    RANCH  191 

footstep  behind  her  seemed  to  come  quicker.  She  got  up  and 
tried  to  run.  Nature  was  nearly  exhausted,  she  could  only 
walk — the  slower  she  walked  the  slower  the  footstep  behind 
her ;  the  quicker  she  walked  the  quicker  the  footstep  behind 
her ;  she  could  not  understand  it,  she  thought  she  must  be 
going  mad,  or  the  sound  was  in  her  head.  She  would  stop, 
when  she  stopped  the  footstep  stopped;  when  she  walked  fast 
the  footstep  seemed  to  keep  pace  with  her.  She  began  not  to 
care — she  staggered  along;  she  began  to  fear  she  would  never 
reach  home,  and  when  she  did,  "My  God!"  she  exclaimed.  In 
the  bitterness  of  her  heart,  she  began  to  cry;  she  sat  down  on 
a  step  at  Thirty-first  street,  not  a  sound  was  to  be  heard.  A 
half  block  behind  her  she  thought  she  saw  a  figure  standing 
beside  a  lamp-post.  She  got  up  with  a  start,  and  began  to 
walk.  She  reached  Thirty-fifth  street  and  turned  west.  There 
was  a  lamp  on  the  end  of  the  street ;  when  she  got  half  a  block 
away  she  looked  back  and  saw  a  man  turn  the  corner,  and 
come  in  her  direction.  She  was  near  home.  All  was  as  still 
as  the  grave,  neither  friend,  or  foe  in  sight — but  the  man  she 
believed  was  following  her.  There  was  none  that  she  might 
appeal  to,  to  save  her.  Still  she  could  hear  the  steady  tread  of 
the  person,  whoever  it  was,  that  had  followed  her.  She  made 
a  supreme  effort,  finally  reaching  the  cottage  in  which  she  had 
been  bom,  and  threw  herself  against  the  door.  It  flew  open, 
she  fell  in  a  faint,  in  her  mother's  arms. 


^  Chapter  XXIII 

THE    RANCH. 

"Good  morning,  Scully,  you  must  have  been  out  early?" 
"Yes,  sir,  I  have  had  quite  a  stroll.     I've  been  up  on  the 
hill  in  the  rear — it's  a  magnificent  view." 

"I'm  glad  you  like  it ;  but  come,  that's  the  signal  for  break- 
fast." 


192  THE    RANCH 

Miss  ]\Ionroe  bade  Mr.  Scully  good  morning,  as  she  took 
her  place  at  the  head  of  the  table. 

"Don't  forget  the  advice  I  gave  you  yesterday,  Scully,"  said 
Monroe  looking  over  at  him. 

The  breakfast,  like  the  supper  on  the  previous  night,  was  of 
the  most  substantial  character — oatmeal,  ham  and  eggs,  hot 
rolls,  and  coffee.  A  large  jug  of  milk  stood  on  the  table  for 
those  who  desired  to  use  it,  and  a  pitcher  of  rich  cream  for 
the  coffee. 

Mike  thought  the  breakfast  was  just  made  to  his  order,  the 
walk  had  whetted  his  appetite 

Breakfast  over,  Monroe,  looking  at  Scully,  told  him  not  to 
go  away.  "After  I  have  a  talk  with  the  men  here,  I  want  to 
show  you  around  a  bit." 

Monroe  and  the  three  foremen  retired  to  a  room  which  was 
off  the  parlor,  and  which  was  used  as  an  office. 

"What  I  want  to  see  you  about,"  said  Monroe,  addressing 
them,  "was  this  young  man  I've  brought  with  me.  He  did  me 
a  very  great  service,  so  I  am  very  much  interested  in  him." 

He  went  on  to  describe  the  event  with  which  our  readers 
are  familiar,  gave  a  graphic  description  of  his  being  knocked 
down  by  the  two  highwaymen,  and  of  Mike  coming  to  his 
rescue.  "You  know  I  had  a  pretty  big  bundle  of  money  on 
me,  and  a  fair-sized  package  of  something  else" — his  listeners 
looked  at  one  another  and  smiled.  "One  of  them  hit  me  with 
a  sand-bag,  the  policeman  called  it,  and  the  other  fellow  had  a 
forty-four,  so  you  may  guess  what  chance  I  had." 

"Well,  what  had  Scully?"  inquired  Stone. 

"Nothing  but  his  fists." 

"Nothing  but  his  fists?"  said  Randal, "  "and  he  attacked 
them  both  ?" 

"Not  even  a  stick,"  replied  IMonroe. 

"Well,"  remarked  Jerry  Smith,  "I  think  the  fellow  that  runs 
up  against  one  man  with  a  club,  as  you  described,  and  another 
with  a  gur,  under  those  conditions,  is  either  a  damned  fool  or 
he  want's  to  commit  suicide." 

"Either  that  or  he  has  a  mighty  lot  of  grit,"  remarked  Stone, 
"Why  didn't  he  shout  for  the  police?" 


THE    RANCH  193 

"He  told  me  he  hadn't  time — but  the  poHce  did  come  as  the 
gun  went  off  in  the  scuffle,  and  when  he  came  he  grabbed  my 
friend,  who  had  the  gun  in  his  hand.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  a 
man.  a  banker,  and  a  lad\-  who  was  with  him,  who  witnessed 
the  whole  affair  from  across  the  street,  I'm  afraid  my  friend 
would  have  been  up  against  it,  he  being  a  stranger  in  Denver, 
and  not  having  a  single  acquaintance.  Of  course,  I  couldn't 
help  him,  as  I  didn't  know  who  struck  me.  I  don't  want  any 
one  of  you  to  say  anything  about  it.  I  wouldn't  like  Virgie  to 
hear  of  it,  she  would  be  uneasy  when  I  go  away  again.  I  want 
you.  now  that  you  know  why  he  is  here,  to  see  that  none  of 
the  fellows  impose  on  him.  You  know  some  of  them  like  to 
play  pranks  on  the  greenhands." 

"I  guess  they  had  better  let  him  alone,"  suggested  Randal. 

"He  don't  look  much  like  a  fire-eater,"  said  Stone. 

"More  like  a  dry  goods  clerk,"  chimed  in  Smith — "he  looks 
cut  out  for  a  counter  jumper." 

"He's  a  pretty  husky  fellow,"  remarked  Monroe,  "he  tells 
me  that  he  weighs  a  hundred  and  seventy-five  pounds. 

"Yes,  but  look  at  his  height — he  must  be  six  feet,"  guessed 
Stone. 

"He's  all  right,  anyhow,  and  I  think  he'll  make  a  good  man," 
was  Monroe's  conclusion.  "I  tried  to  offer  him  a  consideration 
for  what  he  had  done  for  me,  but  he  declined  it." 

When  Scully  was  left  alone  with  the  three  women.  Miss 
Monroe  began  a  conversation.  "You're  from  Chicago,  I  be- 
lieve?" 

"Yes,  miss." 

"We  hear  some  terrible  accounts  of  doings  there,"  she  said, 
smiling. 

"Well,  there  are  a  great  many  people  in  Chicago,  and  I'm 
afraid  some  of  the  stories  you  hear  are  only  too  true." 

"I  suppose  it's  the  same  in  all  big  cities." 

"Yes,  miss ;  Chicago,  New  York,  Philadelphia  and  St.  Louis 
are  probably  much  alike." 

"They  say  it's  a  very  smoky  place."  said  Mrs.  Thompson. 

"There  are  a  great  many  factories  there,  and.  as  they  burn 
^oft  coal,  there  is  considerable  smoke." 


194  THE    RANCH 

"I  hope  you  won't  feel  lonesome  out  here,"  continued  Miss 
Monroe.  "You  see,  we  have  no  theatres,  and  not  much  of 
what  you'd  call  society.  We  have,  however,  a  number  of  good 
people  whose  acquaintance  you  will  probably  make  if  you  stay 
any  time.  There  is,  however,  about  twenty  men  to  one  woman," 
she  said,  archly,  "so  there  is  not  much  opportunity  for  flirting." 

"Maybe  that's  a  recommendation  for  the  country,"  laughing. 
"It  is  at  least  a  great  advantage  to  the  ladies  who  are  here,  for 
their  raritv  must  make  them  all  the  more  prized." 

The  ladies  smiled  at  one  another,  thinking  that  his  conclusion 
was  appropriately  and  gallantly  put. 

"I  have  been  in  Philadelphia  and  New  York,  but  never  in 
Chicago,  Mr.  Scully.    I  hope  to  go  there  some  day." 

"Well,  you'll  find  it  quite  a  city,  miss." 

Monroe  returned  and  the  conversation  ceased. 

"Come,  Scully,  let  us  be  going." 

Scully  bowed  gracefully  to  the  ladies.  Mrs.  Thompson  say- 
ing when  he  was  gone  that  she  thought  he  was  a  nice  young 
man,  an  opinion  in  which  the  two  younger  women  shared. 

Monroe  and  Scully  first  visited  the  stables.  "What  do  you 
think  of  those  horses?" 

Mike  said  he  thought  they  were  very  fine. 

"All  those,"  pointing  to  a  row  of  stalls,  "are  thoroughbreds. 
We  raise  them  ourselves.  They  are  the  best  in  Montana. 
This  one,"  as  he  approached  an  open  stall,  "you  saw  yes- 
terday." 

"I  think  it  is  the  most  magnificent  horse  I  have  ever  seen," 
remarked  Scully. 

"Whoa,  there,  girl !  Ah,  you  rascal !  Why  don't  you  be- 
have yourself?"  The  mare  had  put  her  head  over  the  stall  and 
attempted  to  take  Mike's  hat  ofif  his  head.  The  horse  seemed 
to  enjoy  the  joke,  as  she  threw  up  her  heels  and  romped  round 
the  commodious  stall. 

"She's  not  vicious,  but  full  of  play,"  remarked  Monroe. 
"That's  her  brother."  pointing  to  another  animal  that  was  also 
in  a  loose  stall.  "He's  only  three  years  old  and  not  fully 
broken.  We  call  him  Hercules.  You  see,  my  Virgie's  a  little 
classical.    She  says  she  gave  him  that  name  on  account  of  his 


THE    RANCH  195 

size."  They  next  visited  the  corral,  in  which  was  a  lot  of  high- 
grade  cattle.  "Those  are  our  choice  stock,  which  are  used  for 
breeding  purposes.  You  see,  the  winter  is  approaching,  and 
we  bring  them  in  on  account  of  their  value.  I  paid  a  bonny 
price  for  some  of  them." 

"What's  the  trouble  with  that  one,"  inquired  Mike,  "that  he 
has  to  be  caged  up  by  himself?"  referring  to  a  magnificent  bull. 

"That's  Montana  King — he's  a  despot ;  and,  like  some  other 
kings,  has  no  regard  for  his  subjects.  If  we  let  him  loose, 
amongst  the  rest,  there'd  be  the  devil  to  pay ;  every  other  bull 
in  the  corral  would  have  to  fly  for  his  life."  Just  then  the 
Montana  King  observed  Monroe  and  Scully.  He  set  up  a  roar, 
and  began  to  paw  the  ground  in  intense  fury ;  his  big  blood- 
shot eyes  seemed  as  if  they  were  shooting  fire.  He  charged 
the  fence,  head  first,  as  if  he  would  break  it  in  pieces,  and  Mike 
began  to  get  a  little  alarmed  for  fear  he'd  succeed.  Monroe 
told  him  there  was  no  danger.  "We  had  better  go  away,  any- 
how, for  as  long  as  we  are  here  he  will  cut  up  just  as  he  is 
doing  now."  Mike  was  only  too  willing,  as  the  antics  of  his 
majesty  were  more  than  he  cared  to  witness.  "I  hope  you 
haven't  any  more  like  him  on  the  ranch?" 

"No,  there's  none  like  him ;  money  couldn't  buy  him." 

"Is  he  that  valuable?" 

"Yes,  that  fellow,  his  father  and  grandfather,  made  this 
ranch.     Our  stock  cannot  be  beat." 

"But  who  attends  to  him?" 

"No  one  :  only  one  man  is  allowed  to  go  near  him,  and  he 
keeps  a  close  lookout.  As  I  told  you  before,  he  has  little  re- 
gard for  any  of  his  subjects  or  attending  vassals." 

"Those  here  are  yearlings.  You  can  see  a  resemblance  to 
his  majesty  in  some  of  them — look  at  that  youngster ;  is  he  not 
a  beauty?  If  he  develops  he  is  likely  to  succeed  his  royal  high- 
ness.   We  have  already  christened  him  Prince  Mon." 

Monroe  took  his  visitor  to  the  piggeries,  remarking,  "We 
don't  pay  much  attention  to  hogs.  This  is  a  horse  and  cattle 
country.  We  just  raise  enough  for  our  own  use."  He  then 
showed  Mike  the  long  row  of  haystacks  and  cornbins,  till  Mike 
gazed  in  wonder  at  the  enormous  display.    "You  see,  we  feed 


196  THE    RANCH 

a  good  deal  in  the  winter.  Many  of  our  fool  ranchers  make 
little  provision  for  their  cattle,  leaving  them  to  shift  for  them- 
selves. This  is  a  great  mistake,  and  as  a  result  they  suffer 
great  losses  when  the  weather  is  very  severe." 

"You  must  have  a  lot  of  land  out  here,  Mr.  Monroe?" 

"About  50,000  acres.  When  •!  first  came  out  here  this  was 
a  wilderness — land  was  of  little  value.  Come,  now,  we'll  take 
a  drive." 

George  had  the  buckboard  ready  at  the  door  waiting  for 
them.  There  were  two  big  fur  coats  lying  on  the  seat.  "Put 
one  of  them  on ;  you  will  find  the  air  somewhat  bracing  after 
we're  out  a  while."  As  they  got  seated  in  the  cart,  Monroe 
pulled  out  his  cigar  case  and,  reaching  it  to  Mike,  told  him  to 
light  up. 

A  little  distance  from  the  homestead,  they  came  to  a  number 
of  detached  buildings,  where  some  men  were  lounging  around 
smoking.  "Those  are  what  we  call  bunk  houses,  where  the 
men  sleep.  This  large  building  is  the  cook  house,  where  they 
eat."  As  they  were  passing,  most  of  the  men  touched  their 
hats  to  Monroe,  who  saluted  them  cordially  with  "Good  morn- 
ing, boys." 

"I  see  you  have  quite  a  number  of  men.  Mr.  Monroe ;  ever 
have  an}-  trouble  with  any  of  them?" 

"Not  much.  When  we  find  a  fellow  that's  particularly  quar- 
relsome we  tell  him  to  get,  and  he  gets.  Neither  Randal, 
.Stone  or  Smith  ever  argues  with  them.  'Get  your  money 
and  go.'  " 

"Well,  I  suppose  there's  some  shooting  out  here  occasion- 
ally?" 

"A  great  deal,  if  you  believe  the  dime  novels.  Of  course, 
twenty  years  ago  things  were  different ;  every  man  went 
armed.  This  section  of  the  state  was  overrun  by  men  who 
were  miners,  gamblers  and  robbers." 

"I  guess  you  had  your  troubles  in  those  days." 

"Yes,  I  had  to  do  some  mighty  tall  bluffing.  I  have  been 
fortunate,  however,  in  never  having  killed  a  man.  I  have 
winged  a  few  of  them.  The  fire-eaters  soon  found  out  that 
John  Monroe  wasn't  to  be  fooled  with,  so  they  kind  of  let  me 


THE    RANCH  197 

alone.  The  same  people  are  not  here  now.  Our  chief  conten- 
tions nowadays  are  caused  by  the  red-eye.  It  does  most  of  the 
fighting — you  see,  it's  villainous  stufif  they  sell  out  here." 

"Where  do  they  get  it?  There  are  not  many  saloons  around 
here." 

"You  remember  that  place  we  passed  vesterdav?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that's  Murry's  place.  It's  an  infamous  joint.  Murry 
settled  out  here  some  ten  vears  ago.  It's  a  gambling-house 
and  dance  hall.  He  keeps  about  twenty  girls  there,  and  it's 
hell  all  the  time." 

"It's  a  wonder  the  authorities  wouldn't  put  him  out." 

Monroe  laughed.  "Why.  he's  the  authority.  You  see,  he's 
a  great  politician,  and  at  election  times  he's  prepared  to  spend 
lots  of  money  and  round  up  the  votes  for  the  fellow  that  will 
stand  for  his  game.  He  always  has  the  sheriff  on  his  staff, 
and  so  recommends  the  deputies  for  this  district.  His  boun- 
cer's the  deputy  now." 

Scully  thought  of  Hooligan. 

"You  see,  many  of  the  ranchers  and  miners  out  here  like  to 
buck  the  tiger,  and  they  can  always  get  a  game  at  Murry's. 
Then  there's  the  young  fellows ;  some  of  them  like  a  game, 
while  others  run  after  the  girls,  and  as  Murry  makes  lots  of 
money  out  of  them  he  acts  pretty  sociable  with  them,  and  hence 
his  pull.  He's  killed  a  couple  of  men,  but  the  coroner's  jury 
always  found  it  was  in  self-defense,  and  as  the  fellows  he 
killed  were  of  no  accoimt  he  always  got  off  with  flying  colors. 
I  would  advise  you,  however,  to  keep  away  from  it ;  it's  a 
tough  joint.  A^irgie  lias  a  dislike  to  any  of  our  fellows  who 
ever  go  there.  She  has  often  complained  to  me  that  the  re- 
spectable ranchers  should  get  together,  buy  him  out.  and,  if  he 
wouldn't  sell,  clear  him  out.  I  told  her  one  time  she  was  an 
anarchist,"  said  Monroe,  laughing. 

"I  suppose  some  of  your  fellows  frequent  it  in  spite  of  Miss 
Monroe's  well-known  aversions?" 

"Sure  they  do.  Randal,  a  pretty  straight-laced  fellow,  he 
never  goes  now.  The  chief  reason  is,  however,  there  is  some 
talk  of  him  and  Miss  Piatt  hitching  up  together.     I  think  the 


198  THE    RANCH 

love  for  my  daughter  is  the  only  barrier,  but  that  will  be 
broken  down  some  day.  I'll  hate  to  lose  Randal,  but  if  he 
makes  up  his  mind  to  start  for  himself,  I  can't  stop  him." 

Over  the  plains  in  many  directions  could  be  seen  vast  herds 
of  cattle  grazing.  Two  or  three  cowboys  sitting  erect  in  their 
saddles,  smoking  cigarettes,  or  lying  on  the  ground,  seemed  to 
be  in  charge.  Monroe  spoke  to  some  of  them  as  he  passed, 
addressing  them  by  their  first  name,  "How  do  you  do,  Tom?" 
or  "Well,  Jack,  how's  things?"  To  some  of  them,  he  intro- 
duced his  friend,  Mr.  Scully,  from  Chicago.  Close  to  the  foot- 
hills there  were  a  very  large  number  of  sheep  browsing  on  the 
succulent  grass.  "They're  Downshires,"  Monroe  remarked, 
in  passing. 

They  were  approaching  a  little  building  like  a  chapel.  There 
was  a  fence  around  it.  "There  is  where  my  heart  lies,"  said 
Monroe,  with  a  sigh.  He  got  out  of  the  rig,  fastening  the 
horse  to  a  hitching  post  that  stood  beside  the  little  gate  that  led 
to  the  enclosure.  Mike  followed  him.  A  gravel  walk  led  up 
to  the  little  mausoleum.  On  each  side  of  the  walk  was  a  bed 
of  flowers,  the  flowers  now  withered  and  drooping;  in  front 
of  the  door  of  the  sepulchre  lay  a  number  of  floral  wreaths, 
many  of  them  by  their  appearance  having  lain  there  for  years, 
while  others  seemed  as  if  they  had  been  placed  there  much 
more  recently.  One  seemed  to  be  quite  fresh.  Monroe  looked 
around  the  ground  carefully,  as  if  to  detect  anything  defective. 
He  approached  the  step  in  front  and,  kneeling  down,  devoutly 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

Mike  felt  somewhat  embarrassed  as  to  what  he  should  do, 
but  finally  knelt  down  and  ofiPered  up  a  fervent  prayer  for  the 
repose  of  the  soul  of  the  dead.  He  felt  his  friend's  devotion 
to  the  departed  whom  he  had  loved  so  well  in  life.  Mike 
prayed  in  earnest — unlike  many  whom  he  had  seen  at  wakes, 
kneel  before  the  coffin  of  those  they  neither  knew  nor  cared  for, 
because  it  was  a  custom,  making  a  mechanical  supplication, 
signifying  nothing.  Monroe  was  highly  gratified  at  Mike's 
action.  He  had  a  higher  opinion  of  him  than  ever,  and  was 
well  pleased  in  recognizing  that  he  belonged  to  the  same  re- 
ligion as  himself. 


THE    RANCH  199 

"This  place  is  under  the  special  care  of  my  daughter,  but  I 
like  to  come  around  occasionally  to  see  that  everything  is  in 
good  shape.  If  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  there  are  so  few 
of  our  people  in  this  part  of  the  state,  I  would  raise  a  little 
chapel  here  and  dedicate  it  to  the  memory  of  one  of  the  best, 
noblest  and  purest  women  who  ever  lived ;  some  day  I  may  do 
it  anyway.  It's  my  ambition ;  but  let  us  return  home.  Dinner 
will  be  ready  before  we  get  back." 

That  evening  after  supper,  as  the  cigars  were  being  handed 
around,  Monroe  remarked,  'Tt's  a  fine  evening ;  come,  and  we'll 
smoke  our  cigars  in  the  open."  It  was  a  faultless  night,  the 
moon  shone  bright  in  a  cloudless  sky,  illuminating  the  whole 
valley ;  Pine  Ridge  could  be  seen  distinctly  in  the  distance,  and 
beyond  a  few  higher  peaks,  their  tops  covered  with  snow.  To 
the  left  was  Strangler's  Gulch,  five  miles  away;  lights  could 
be  seen  in  the  windows  of  the  Cowboys'  Rest,  smoke  issuing 
from  the  chimneys  went  straight  toward  the  firmament.  There 
was  not  the  sem.blance  of  a  breeze,  all  so  quiet,  so  beautiful, 
Mike  was  enchanted.  Pie  thought  of  the  dingy,  dirty  locality 
on  the  corner  of  which  Hooligan  dealt  out  poverty  and  damna- 
tion to  his  neighbors.  They  walked  in  the  direction  of  the 
bunk-houses.  There  was  a  change.  In  one  there  was  a  man 
singing,  in  another  the  scraping  of  a  fiddle.  "The  player," 
Mike  thought  to  himself,  "is  no  expert."  The  tune  was  lively, 
however,  and  the  sound  of  feet  could  be  plainly  heard,  as  if 
dancing.  In  another  it  was  apparent  they  were  playing  cards, 
as  a  voice  could  be  heard,  "It's  your  deal,  Tom." 

"You  see,  we're  not  entirely  dull  out  here,"  said  Monroe, 
turning  to  Mike.  "The  boys  know  how  to  enjoy  themselves, 
and  on  better  acquaintance  you  will  find  some  very  good  fel- 
lows amongst  them.  Of  course,  we  have  some  who  drift  from 
place  to  place  and  have  records  they  wouldn't  care  to  have 
published,  but  as  a  whole  the  Montana  cowboy  is  at  heart  a 
good  kind  of  fellow."  They  returned  to  the  house  and  en- 
tered the  parlor.  Virgie  Monroe  was  playing  a  favorite  tune 
of  her  father's.  It  was  a  selection  from  "II  Trovatore."  The 
gentlemen  took  their  seats  in  silence.  At  its  conclusion  Mon- 
roe looked  over  at  Mike  as  if  to  get  his  approval. 


200  THE    RANCH 

"Very  well  played,"  looking  at  Monroe. 

The  girl  turned  around  and  faced  the  men.  The  reserve  of 
the  previous  night  seemed  dispelled. 

"Pretty  good  for  a  Montana  girl,"  remarked  Monroe. 

"You  see,  we  are  some  account  out  here,"  said  Randal. 

]\Iiss  Monroe's  face  blushed  at  the  compliment  that  was 
being  paid  her. 

"Go  on,  Virgie,  play  us  another." 

"What  would  you  like  me  to  play,  pa?" 

"Something  we  all  know." 

She  commenced  to  play  "Our  Old  Kentucky  Home." 

"That's  for  your  special  benefit,  Smith,"  remarked  Monroe. 
Smith,  being  a  Kentuckian,  nodded  his  head  approvingly. 
,  Scully  could  not  specify  any  reasonable  cause,  but  he  felt 
jealous  of  Smith.  Miss  Monroe  then  played  the  "Star  Span- 
gled Banner."  At  its  conclusion  Monroe  rose,  saying,  "That 
means  the  final.  I'm  going  to  bed.  If  any  of  you  fellows  want 
anything,  you  know  where  to  get  it."  He  kissed  his  daughter, 
saying  "Good  night." 

The  two  following  days  Mike  spent  pleasantly — a  sociable 
chat  with  the  ladies  and  men  whom  he  met ;  a  stroll  over  the 
plains,  a  visit  to  the  different  departments,  even  to  the  bunk- 
houses,  where  he  was  well  received.  He  began  to  feel  very 
much  at  home.  He  began  to  think,  however,  that  it  was  about 
time  that  he  was  beginning  to  do  something.  He  mentioned 
it  to  Monroe,  who  pooh-poohed  it.  "Plenty  of  time,  my  boy ; 
wait  till  you  get  climatized.  After  the  holidays  is  soon 
enough."  On  one  occasion  Monroe  put  his  hand  in  the  cigar 
box  and,  pulling  out  as  many  as  his  hand  would  hold,  said, 
"Put  those  in  your  pocket  and  when  you  feel  lonesome, 
smoke !" 

On  the  fifth  day,  while  at  breakfast,  Randal  invited  him  out 
for  a  ride.  "We're  going  over  Pine  Ridge.  Some  of  the  cattle 
have  gone  astray — you'd  better  come  with  us." 

"I  would  only  be  too  happy,  but  I  never  rode  a  horse  in  my 
life- — yes,  I  did,"  continued  Mike,  correcting  himself.  "When 
I  was  a  boy  there  was  a  coal  man  on  our  street,  and  he  had  an 
old  nag  that  I  mounted  a  few  times,  but  as  he  could  never  get 


THE   RANCH  201 

beyond  a  walk,  I  suppose  that  would  hardly  be  considered 
much  of  an  equestrian  experience." 

"If  that's  the  case,"  chimed  in  Stone,  "you'd  better  not  go ; 
the  ground  where  we're  going  is  rough  and  hilly,  and  we're 
likely  to  have  some  galloping." 

"I  guess  he  could  ride  Peaceful,"  remarked  Monroe. 

Miss  Monroe  looked  at  her  father  and  smiled,  as  did  the 
other  women  at  the  table.  George,  who  was  waiting  on  table, 
Iiad  to  turn  around  to  hide  his  grin. 

Mike  thought  they  were  smiling  at  his  inexperience  and  his 
lack  of  education  in  one  of  the  accomplishments  in  which  they 
were  all  so  proficient. 

"I  don't  think  he  could."  replied  Randal,  looking  at  Monroe. 

"Will  you  try,  Scully  ?""  Monroe  inquired.  "If  he  does,  I'll 
bet  you  a  box  of  cigars,  Randal." 

"Well,  considering  he  never  rode  a  horse,  I  think  it's  taking 
an  advantage,"  said  Randal,  professing  to  be  fair. 

"No  matter,  I'm  game,"  returned  Monroe,  "and  you're  on." 

"All  right,  tomorrow  after  breakfast.  I  have  to  go  away 
today  or  we'd  decide  it  right  now."  The  following  morning, 
while  at  breakfast,  every  one  present  seemed  in  high  humor. 
Miss  Monroe  was  especially  attentive  to  Mike.  "You'll  see 
that  my  friend  is  properly  equipped  ?"  Monroe  said  to  Randall, 
when  they  had  finished  breakfast. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have  had  the  outfit  sent  up  to  his  room." 

"Stone,  do  you  want  to  bet  a  box?"  inquired  Monroe. 

"Perhaps  this  is  a  frame-up,"  said  Stone,  laughing. 

"No,  sir." 

"Then  you're  on  for  a  box." 

"I  think  you  should  lay  odds,"  remarked  Smith. 

"No  odds  goes.    Jerry,  do  you  want  a  few  cigars  cheap?" 

"Not  for  me,  sir ;  if  I  was  betting  I'd  take  your  end  of  it." 

"Well,  I  see  you're  a  lot  of  pikers,"  said  Monroe,  rising. 
"Go  and  get  ready,  Mike."  In  a  short  time  Mike  returned,  in 
regular  cowboy  costume,  consisting  of  a  pair  of  boots  with 
spurs,  leather  chaps  over  his  pants,  fastened  around  his  waist 
by  a  broad  belt,  blue  woolen  shirt,  a  bandana  handkerchief 
round  his  neck   and    a    large   sombrero   hat.     He    had    been 


202  THE    RANCH 

dressed  for  the  occasion.  It  ran  in  his  mind,  "What  would  my 
Chicago  friends  think  of  me  if  they  could  see  me  in  this  out- 
fit?" Monroe  complimented  him  on  his  appearance,  and  re- 
minded him  of  all  the  cigars  he  had  bet  on  him.  Stone  said 
that  he  looked  like  the  real  thing,  and  that  he  would  like  to 
hedge  his  bet,  if  Monroe  would  call  it  off. 

"Not  me  I  I  know  a  good  thing  when  I  have  it."  Mike  was 
handed  a  whip. 

Mr.  Monroe  said,  "We're  ready." 

"All  right,"  replied  Randal.  "I  will  have  a  horse  brought 
to  the  front."  The  whole  party  went  to  the  front  of  the  house, 
the  ladies  taking  seats  on  the  veranda.  George,  who  was  a 
privileged  character,  taking  his  position  behind  Miss  Monroe's 
chair,  was  grinning  from  ear  to  ear.  He  could  not  suppress 
his  laughter.  Miss  Monroe  couldn't  help  but  smile,  though 
she  seemed  ill  at  ease,  remonstrating  with  the  colored  boy. 

"Come,  Shanks,  bring  out  Mr.  Scully's  mount,"  ordered 
Randal.  Shanks,  who  was  limping,  went  into  the  barn.  In 
the  meantime  a  number  of  the  help  had  gathered  to  witness  the 
new  mount.  Shanks  was  seen  coming  from  the  stables  leading 
a  bright  bay  colt  with  a  large  brand  on  his  hind  quarter.  He 
had  a  tight  hold  on  the  bridle,  close  by  the  bit.  The  animal 
seemed  docile  enough  as  he  was  led  up  to  where  the  onlookers 
were  standing.  Mike  went  forward  to  mount  him.  As  soon 
as  he  did  the  animal  turned  and  looked  at  him,  at  the  same 
time  laying  his  ears  flat  down  on  his  head.  Mike  grasped  the 
rein  and  attempted  to  place  his  foot  in  the  stirrup.  The  horse 
side-stepped  away  from  him,  Mike  following  him. 

At  a  signal  from  Monroe,  three  of  the  cowboys  closed  in 
on  the  off  side  of  the  horse,  so  as  to  prevent  him  from  side- 
stepping until  Mike  could  get  on  his  back. 

Shanks  still  held  on  to  the  bridle.  Mike,  seeing  his  oppor- 
tunity, vaulted  into  the  saddle,  and  one  of  the  boys  on  the  off 
side  placed  his  right  foot  in  the  stirrup. 

"Let  go,"  cried  Monroe. 

Shanks  stood  aside.  As  soon  as  Mike  was  seated,  the  horse 
stood  still  for  a  second  or  two.  He  then  commenced  a  series 
of  acrobatic  feats,  throwing  up  his  hind  quarters,  stood  on  his 


THE    RANCH  203 

front  legs,  then  reversed,  standing  on  his  hind  legs.  Mike 
held  on,  but  with  a  small  margin,  alternately  feeling  he  would 
go  over  the  animal's  head,  and  the  next  second  as  if  he  would 
go  over  his  tail.    The  crowd  began  to  laugh. 

Mr.  Monroe  cried  "Bravo.  Mike ;  hold  on  for  your  life,  and 
the  cigars  are  ours."  Like  a  flash  the  horse  changed  his  tac- 
tics to  a  rotary  motion  and  Mike,  being  taken  unawares,  was 
unseated,  sprawling  on  the  grass,  amidst  the  roar  of  laughter 
of  those  who  had  come  to  witness  the  exhibition. 

Mike  held  on  to  the  lines,  and  now,  being  fully  cognizant  of 
the  joke,  laughed  himself,  and  prepared  to  remount,  determined 
not  to  be  taken  by  surprise,  no  matter  what  antics  the  animal 
cut  up. 

Randal,  Smith  and  Stone  claimed  they  had  won  the  cigars. 

Monroe  protested,  "That  was  only  an  accident — we  will  win 
yet."  The  three  aforementioned  agreed  to  give  him  another 
chance. 

Mike  made  many  attempts  to  remount,  the  horse  moving 
away  as  soon  as  he  was  ready  to  place  his  foot  in  the  stirrup. 
Mike  looked  around  and,  noticing  a  hitching  post,  worked  the 
animal  toward  it.  As  he  did  he  approached  the  veranda.  Miss 
Monroe  gave  him  a  word  of  encouragement,  and  as  the  horse's 
side  touched  the  post,  Mike  vaulted  into  the  saddle.  He  man- 
aged to  get  his  foot  into  the  stirrup.  The  fractious  animal 
commenced  to  revolve  around  as  if  on  a  pivot,  but  Scully  held 
on.  The  broncho  then  commenced  the  up-and-down  process. 
Mike  was  in  imminent  danger  a  hundred  times.  Miss  Monroe 
shouted  to  him  to  "Take  a  shorter  hold  of  your  lines."  The 
animal  at  length  stood  perfectly  still,  and,  turning  his  head 
round,  gazed  at  the  m.an  on  his  back,  his  frame  trembling  with 
passion.  After  a  brief  rest,  he  kicked  and  jumped,  side- 
stepped and  revolved,  but  Mike  hung  on.  He  lost  his  hat  and 
whip,  his  face  was  flushed,  he  was  now  alert  to  every  move- 
ment of  the  broncho,  and,  hearing  Miss  Monroe  encouraging 
him,  was  determined  to  win. 

During  a  temporary  suspension  of  the  horse's  antics  he  be- 
thought himself  of  the  spurs,  and  drove  them  into  the  animal's 
flanks.    He  had  no  sooner  done  so  than  the  horse  bounded  for- 


204  MIKE  SCULLY',   COWBOY 

ward  and  commenced  to  gallop.  The  men  set  up  a  cheer.  The 
animal  ran  toward  the  gate,  which  was  standing  open  and 
which  led  on  to  the  open  prairie.  On  attempting  to  run 
through  it  came  too  close  to  one  of  the  posts,  Mike's  leg  grazed 
against  it  and  he  was  unhorsed.  Falling,  he  still  held  on  to 
the  reins  and  the  horse  pulled  him  along  until  his  head  struck 
a  stump,  when  he  let  go. 

Monroe  and  the  rest,  seeing  that  an  accident  had  occurred, 
rushed  to  the  spot  where  Mike  lay.  They  found  him  uncon- 
scious, and  blood  was  flowing  from  his  right  temple.  The 
men  picked  him  up  and  carried  him  toward  the  house.  Miss 
Monroe  was  sadly  affected. 

Monroe  gave  instructions  to  carry  him  right  up  to  bed,  and 
take  his  clothes  off,  telling  Jerry  to  ride  to  the  Gulch  and  bring 
Doctor  Gibbs. 

"See  that  he  comes  at  once.  I  would  not  for  anything  that 
this  had  occurred.     Too  bad!     Too  bad!" 

"Take  Juno,"  shouted  Miss  Monroe  to  him  as  Jerry  ran 
toward  the  stable. 

In  a  few  moments  he  was  seen  mounted  and  riding  over  the 
prairie,  encouraging  the  mare  by  word  and  whip. 


Chapter  XXIV 

MIKE  SCULLY,   COWBOY. 

Mike  was  undressed  and  laid  on  the  bed,  still  unconscious. 

Mrs.  Thompson  bathed  his  temples  and  forehead.  She 
shook  her  head,  as  if  it  was  a  bad  case. 

Virgie  Monroe  retired  to  her  own  room,  and,  woman-like, 
had  a  good  cry. 

The  men  who  had  gathered  around  were  discussing  the  mat- 
ter. "By  golly,  it  was  a  shame,"  remarked  George.  "He  was 
a  brick,  the  way  he  held  on  to  that  broncho." 

"Shanks  said  he  was  the  goods,  but  I'm  afraid  he's  a  goner." 


MIKE  SCULLY,   COWBOY  205 

Jerry  was  back  with  old  Doctor  Gibbs  within  thirty  minutes. 

"I  see  you've  got  him,"  said  Monroe,  as  the  two  men  rode 
up. 

"Yes,  I  found  him  at  Murry's.  He  was  in  a  Httle  game  of 
draw,  and  hated  to  leave,  but  I  told  him  I'd  break  up  the  game 
if  he  didn't  come." 

"I  was  in  luck  at  the  time,  too,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  was 
passing  Monroe.    "Where  is  he?" 

Doctor  Gibbs  looked  at  his  patient,  felt  his  pulse,  and,  open- 
ing his  blue  shirt,  bared  the  man's  breast  and  put  his  ear  down 
to  his  left  side  to  hear  the  pulsation  of  his  heart. 

"The  only  danger,"  said  the  doctor,  rising,  "is  that  he  may 
have  received  a  concussion  of  the  brain.  I  don't  like  the  out- 
look ;  his  pulse  is  feeble  and  intermittent.  He  is  young,  how- 
ever, and  seems  to  have  no  other  ailment  outside  the  shock." 

Miss  Monroe  came  into  the  room  to  hear  what  the  doctor 
_  had  to  say.    She  was  very  pale  and  visibly  affected. 

"We  will  await  returning  consciousness,"  continued  the  doc- 
tor, "and  then  can  form  a  better  opinion." 

Miss  Monroe  came  closer  to  the  bedside  to  get  a  better  view 
of  the  patient.  She  was  stooping  over  to  see  the  wound,  when 
Mike  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  up  at  her.  He  gazed  for  a 
moment,  as  if  collecting  his  thoughts,  and  then,  lifting  himself 
on  his  elbow,  inquired,  "Where  am  I?     What's  up?" 

Miss  Monroe  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  forehead.  "You're 
amongst  friends — you  have  been  hurt." 

"O,  yes,  I  remember.  That  horse  must  have  kicked  me. 
I'm  all  right  now." 

Monroe  came  forward  and,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  told 
him  to  lie  down. 

Mike  placed  his  hand  to  his  temple  and  found  that  it  had 
been  bandaged. 

Doctor  Gibbs  advised  him  to  lie  still  for  the  day  and  keep 
quiet.  "There's  no  danger.  As  for  the  cut  in  his  head,"  turn- 
ing to  Monroe,  "that  won't  amount  to  anything." 

"How  do  you  feel  now?"  was  the  motherly  inquiry  of  Mrs. 
Thompson. 

"I  have  a  fierce  headache," 


206  MIKE  SCULLY,   COWBOY 

"No  wonder,  child,"  said  the  kindly  housekeeper ;  "we  were 
afraid  it  would  be  much  worse.  God  is  good.  Lie  still,  now ; 
I  am  going  to  bring  you  up  something  to  eat."  Scully  asked 
them  what  time  it  was. 

Monroe  looked  at  his  watch  and  told  him  it  was  just  past 
one. 

"I'm  going  to  get  up." 

"No,  no,"  said  Doctor  Gibbs,  "you  must  stay  in  bed  for  to- 
day, at  least."     Scully  looked  at  the  doctor. 

"This  is  Doctor  Gibbs,"  said  Monroe,  "and  you  had  better 
take  his  advice." 

Miss  Monroe,  who  stood  at  her  father's  elbow,  also  advised 
him  to  lie  still. 

The  next  morning  Monroe  was  up  early.  He  had  spent  a 
bad  night,  thinking  of  his  friend's  mishap,  blaming  himself  as 
the  responsible  party  for  carrying  out  a  joke,  which  so  nearly 
turned  out  to  be  a  tragedy. 

"How's  your  patient  this  morning,  Mrs.  Thompson?"  was 
his  first  inquiry. 

Mrs.  Thompson  pointed  to  the  veranda,  where  Scully  was 
leisurely  rocking  himself,  wrapped  in  a  big  fur  coat  Mrs. 
Thompson  had  insisted  he  should  put  on  before  she  would  let 
him  out.  "The  sun  is  deceptive  here,"  she  said,  as  she  was 
helping  him  on  with  it.  "It  seems  bright  and  warm,  but  you'll 
feel  it's  pretty  chilly  out  of  doors." 

Monroe  went  out  and,  assuming  an  air  of  anger,  said,  "Look 
here,  young  man,  what  does  this  mean,  out  here  contrary  to 
instructions?  Doctor  Gibbs  told  us  that  you'd  better  stay  in 
bed  and  keep  quiet  for  a  few  days,  and  here  I  find  you  up  and 
out.  The  whole  house  has  been  in  a  quandary  about  you. 
Virgie  tells  me  she  hasn't  slept  a  wink.  She  will  be  shocked 
to  see  you  here." 

"I  am  sure  I  am  grateful  to  both  you  and  Miss  Monroe  for 
your  kindly  feeling  toward  me,  and  to  all  the  people  in  the 
house,  especially  Mrs.  Thompson,  who  visited  me  three  or  four 
times  during  the  night,  but  I'm  in  first-class  shape,  only  for 
the  cut  on  the  side  of  my  head,  which  will  heal  in  a  day  or 
two." 


MIKE  SCULLY.   COWBOY  207 

Before  breakfast  was  ready  many  of  the  hands  on  the  ranch 
came  to  inquire  how  Scully  was,  and  as  he  was  there  to  an- 
swer for  himself,  they  were  agreeably  surprised.  Doctor 
Gibbs  arrived  before  breakfast  was  ready  and  gave  Mike  a 
professional  lecture,  at  which  Mike  laughed. 

At  breakfast  Miss  Monroe  was  extra  solicitous  for  Mike's 
comfort.  She  told  him  that  he  had  given  her  a  great  fright, 
and  Mike  laughingly  expressed  his  sorrow  for  causing  her  any 
uneasiness. 

Monroe  was  in  particularly  good  humor  on  account  of  the 
happy  turn  things  had  taken. 

"it's  all  Randal's  fault,"  he  said,  jokingly.  "In  selecting 
Peaceful  he  put  up  a  job  on  us." 

"O,  papa,  don't  do  Mr.  Randal  an  injustice ;  it  was  you  that 
selected  Peaceful." 

"Did  I  ?"  assuming  a  surprised  air.  "Well,  that  shows  what 
a  judge  of  horses  I  am,  and  I  bet  two  boxes  of  cigars  on  the 
afTair.  Doc,  I  think  you  better  examine  me  after  breakfast," 
and  all  present  laughed  at  Monroe's  humor. 

"I  knew  it  was  a  joke  after  I  first  tried  to  mount,  and  would 
have  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  any  of  you  if  it  wasn't  for  the  fall 
I  got." 

This  remark  was  an  easement  to  the  mind  of  Miss  Monroe, 
and  all  concerned,  who  feared  that  Scully  would  harbor  some 
resentment  for  the  joke  that  had  been  played  upon  him. 

Miss  Monroe,  who  already  began  to  see  a  good  deal  in  the 
manly  young  man,  was  highly  pleased.  "Never  mind,  Mr. 
Scully,"  she  said,  "the  next  time  you  want  to  take  a  lesson  in 
horsemanship,  I'll  pick  out  the  animal." 

"All  right."  said  Monroe,  "but  I'll  not  trust  Randal,  would 
you.  Miss  Piatt?" 

Miss  Piatt  looked  up  into  Randal's  face.  "O,  I  see  you 
would,"  continued  Monroe.  This  created  a  laugh  at  Miss 
Piatt's  expense,  who  blushed. 

Doctor  Gibbs'  instruction  to  Scully  on  leaving  was  that  "he 
must  keep  quite  still  until  the  wound  in  his  head  had  healed. 
I  have  left  instructions  with  Mrs.  Thompson.  I'll  expect 
you'll  see  they  are  carried  out."  looking  at  the  lady. 


208  MIKE  SCULLY,   COWBOY 

"I'm  afraid  it  will  leave  a  mark,"  suggested  Mrs.  Thompson. 

"O,  nothing  to  spoil  his  good  looks,"  remarked  the  doctor. 

Miss  Monroe  looked  over  at  Scully.  She  had  hardly  noticed 
it  before,  but  now,  upon  the  subject  being  broached,  she 
thought  \Uke  was  good-looking. 

"I  understand,"  said  Scully,  "it's  the  custom  to  brand  all  the 
cattle  out  here,  so  I  may  now  be  considered  as  one  of  the 
stock."  Miss  Monroe  smiled.  Ere  a  week  had  passed,  Mike's 
head  and  heart  were  as  strong  as  ever. 

During  the  week  between  Christmas  and  New  Year's  Day 
there  were  many  callers  at  the  homestead.  Monroe  seemed  to 
take  pleasure  in  introducing  his  young  friend,  Mr.  Scully, 
from  Chicago,  to  them.  Miss  Monroe  was  solicitous  for 
Mike's  comfort.  One  day,  while  he  was  seated  in  the  parlor 
with  the  ladies  of  the  house,  she  said : 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  feel  lonesome  out  here,  Mr.  Scully, 
during  this  season.  I  suppose,  if  you  were  home  in  Chicago, 
you  would  be  having  a  round  of  pleasure?" 

"I  assure  you.  Miss  ]\Ionroe,  I  am  far  from  lonesome.  I 
never  knew  the  holiday  season  I  have  passed  so  pleasantly. 
Your  father  is  excellent  company  and  has  kept  me  pretty  well 
on  the  run,  having  introduced  me  to  many  fine  people,  with 
whom  I  hope  to  get  well  acquainted  in  the  future." 

"Yes,  but,  Mr.  Scully,"  she  said,  smiling,  "surely  there  is 
some  one  you  miss?" 

"No,  there  is  no  one  in  particular." 

"Now,  Mr.  Scully,"  chimed  in  Miss  Piatt,  "it  is  very  hard 
for  us  ladies  to  believe  that  of  a  man  like  you.  I  am  afraid 
you  are  a  gay  deceiver,  like  the  rest  of  your  sex." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Mike,  laughing.  "True,  I  had  some 
chums  in  Chicago  that  I  am  interested  in,  but  they  will  get  on 
very  well  without  me." 

"But  what  about  the  girl?"  inquired  Mrs.  Thompson. 

"O,  I  assure  you  there  is  no  girl." 

The  ladies  looked  at  him,  shook  their  heads  and  smiled. 

On  the  second  day  of  January,  Scully  met  Mr.  Monroe 
crossing  the  lawn. 

"I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  Mr.  Monroe." 


MIKE  SCULLY,   COWBOY  209 

"What  is  it,  Mike?" 

"I  feel  now  as  if  I  am  fit  to  go  to  work.  I  want  you  to  as- 
sign me  to  a  place." 

"No  hurry.    No  hurry — aren't  you  all  right  as  you  are?" 

"Mr.  Monroe,  you  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  but  I  cannot 
longer  impose  upon  your  good  nature.  My  position  is  with 
the  men,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  would  be  better  pleased  to  take  my 
place  as  soon  as  possible.  I  want  to  work ;  for  that  I  came 
West,  and  I  am  anxious  to  start  in." 

"I  am  afraid  Miss  Monroe  will  think  you're  a  little  hasty, 
perhaps  think  I  am  hurrying  you." 

"I  assure  you  I  am  very  desirous  of  having  Miss  Monroe's 
good  will.  She  has  been  very  considerate  of  me.  I  have  been 
treated  as  one  of  the  family.  I  know  my  place,  however,  and 
want  you  to  satisfy  me  in  this  matter." 

"Well,  if  you  want  it  that  way,  of  course  I'll  have  to  con- 
form to  your  wishes.  Here's  Randal  coming  across  the  pas- 
ture,    rii  tell  him." 

When  Randal  reached  them  Monroe  told  him  Scully  was 
going  to  leave. 

"What's  that?     I  hope  not." 

"Well,  not  exactly.  He  is  going  to  leave  us  up  at  the  home- 
stead.    He  wants  to  join  your  men." 

"I  will  be  very  glad  to  have  him.    When  is  he  coming?" 

"Now,"  said  Mike. 

When  Mr.  Monroe  acquainted  his  daughter  with  Mike's  in- 
tention to  leave  the  homestead,  she  showed  some  dissatisfac- 
tion. 

"Why,  he  can't  even  ride  a  horse,  papa.  I  don't  see  what 
use  Randal  can  have  for  him.  Can't  you  persuade  him  to 
stay  for  a  time?" 

"I'm  afraid  not ;  he  seems  positive.  I  told  him  there  was  no 
hurry,  but  he  seemed  determined.  I  had  to  let  him  have  his 
own  way.    Randal  will  have  to  get  him  a  horse." 

"Papa,  you  remember  my  promise  to  him  after  he  tried  to 
ride  Peaceful?" 

"Yes." 
•  "Then  I  want  you  to  let  him  have  Hercules." 


210  MIKE  SCULLY,   COWBOY 

"Why,  girl,  he's  not  half  broken." 

"Shanks  will  see  to  that,"  was  her  reply,  so  the  imperious 
young  lady  had  her  way. 

Monroe  was  in  no  way  displeased  with  the  selection,  his 
only  thought  being  that  Hercules  might  be  hard  to  manage. 
In  this  he  was  mistaken,  for  ere  the  winter  was  over  Mike 
Scully  became  an  expert  horseman.  He  had  all  the  essentials 
— agility,  courage  and  patience ;  he  loved  his  horse  as  does  the 
Arab. 

The  climate  and  the  outdoor  work  seemed  to  agree  with 
him.  He  got  through  the  intensely  cold  weather  without  a 
shiver.  When  men  had  to  be  sent  out  to  bring  forage  to  cattle 
that  were  snowed  in  on  the  plains,  Mike  was  always  ready. 
One  day  Jerry  Smith  complained  of  the  infernal  cold  weather. 
"It  would  freeze  a  brass  monkey,"  was  the  way  he  put  it.  One 
of  the  men  handed  him  his  flask.  Jerry  took  a  long  draught 
from  it.  "O,  that's  good ;  I  feel  all  right  now,"  as  he  flapped 
his  arms  across  his  chest  and  kept  stamping  his  feet. 

"Why  don't  you  put  a  little  in  your  boots,"  said  Mike  to 
him,  laughing;  "it  might  warm  up  your  feet." 

The  other  men  in  the  group  laughed  at  Mike's  suggestion. 

"You'd  better  take  a  little  of  this,  Mike,"  said  the  man  with 
the  flask. 

"No,  thanks.  I  haven't  cold  feet,  like  Jerry,  or  I'd  try  a 
little  in  my  understandings." 

Scully  could  give  and  take  a  joke,  and  as  there  were  a  num- 
ber of  professional  jokers  on  the  ranch,  Mike  was  an  occa- 
sional butt  of  their  humor,  but  he  seemed  to  enjoy  being  the 
mark  as  well  as  if  he  had  been  the  perpetrator.  Of  course,  the 
jokes  were  of  a  harmless  nature.  Mike  would  promptly  con- 
demn anything  that  seemed  to  him  too  raw.  He  was  ever  will- 
ing to  serve  any  of  his  mates,  many  of  whom,  being  illiterate, 
Mike  used  to  do  their  correspondence  for  them.  "Mike,  I 
would  like  if  you  had  the  time  to  write  me  a  letter." 

"Always  have  time,"  was  his  cheery  answer ;  "wait  till  I  get 
my  pen,  ink  and  paper."  Sometimes  the  letters  were  of  a  con- 
fidential character,  but  it  was  like  the  Catholic  confessional  to 
Mike ;  he  never  betrayed  confidence,  and  they  all  knew  it. 


MIKE  SCtLLV,   COWBOY  211 

Before  spring  was  far  advanced,  Scully  could  often  be  seen 
coming-  over  the  prairies  with  Hercules  following  behind,  as 
docile  as  a  big  Newfoundland  dog.  It  was  a  favorite  trick  of 
Mike's  to  have  an  apple  or  ear  of  corn  in  his  pocket  and  have 
Hercules  search  him  for  it. 

After  receiving  his  fourth  month's  pay,  he  began  to  think 
of  sending  for  the  articles  he  had  pledged  with  Goldberg.  He 
didn't  want  Goldberg  to  know  where  he  was,  because,  if  he 
did,  Goldberg,  who  he  felt  was  still  doing  business  with  the 
gang,  would  tell  them  where  he  was.  It  would  be  a  piece  of 
gossip  Israel  would  delight  in,  probably  try  to  enter  into  a  cor- 
respondence. The  idea  was  loathsome.  "I'll  ask  Randal," 
he  said  to  himself. 

"Randal,"  he  said  one  day,  addressing  him,  "I  want  to  see 
if  you  can  help  me  out  of  a  little  difficulty." 

"Glad  of  the  opportunity,  Mike,  if  I  can." 

"Well,  it  is  this  way:  When  I  decided  to  come  West  I  had 
to  pledge  some  articles  to  raise  my  fare.  One,  my  mother's 
wedding  ring,  a  cross  she  used  to  wear,  a  watch  and  a  re- 
volver ;  for  that  I  don't  care  much,  but  the  other  three  articles 
I  must  have.  Now,  when  I  left  Chicago  I  was  determined  to 
bid  the  city  and  people  a  long  farewell.  I  determined  not  to 
write  or  be  written  to — not,  mind  you,  that  there  is  any  special 
reason  for  it.  If  I  went  back  tomorrow  I  would  be  welcome, 
but  I  am  here  to  stay." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that." 

"So  I  want  to  get  those  things  without  old  Goldberg  know- 
ing where  I  am.  He  knows  a  number  of  people  I  know,  and 
I  would  be  bothered  with  letters  to  come  back." 

"I  see,"  said  Randal.     "Have  vou  got  the  tickets?" 

"Yes," 

"Whose  name  are  they  made  out  in?" 

"Mine,  to  be  sure." 

"I'll  arrange  it  for  you,  in  apple-pie  order.  You  write  a 
letter,  dating  it  from  Omaha.  I  will  have  our  agent  forward 
it  from  there,  the  express  company  will  get  the  goods  and  for- 
ward them  to  him  and  then  I  will  have  them  sent  out  to  me." 

About  two  weeks  later  Mike  received  the  greatest  treasure 


212  MIKE  SCULLY,   COWBOY 

he  had  in  Hfe.  As  he  opened  the  package  and  took  out  his 
mother's  ring  he  kissed  it  reverently,  and  then  kissed  the  cross. 
The  revolver  he  threw  aside — it  was  hateful  to  him,  a  reminder 
of  his  vicious  past. 

Mike's  genial  disposition  soon  won  him  the  respect  of  the 
men.  He  entered  freely  into  all  their  outdoor  sports — run- 
ning, jumping  or  wrestling.  He  never  gloated  over  a  victory, 
so  the  vanquished  never  felt  humiliated.  With  the  people  at 
the  homestead  he  was  always  respectful,  and  neither  courted 
nor  shunned  their  company.  With  Mrs.  Thompson  he  was  a 
special  favorite.  She  never  tired  singing  his  praise.  "He  is 
so  refined  in  comparison  with  most  of  the  men  on  the  ranch," 
she  would  say.    "I  believe  he  had  a  good  bringing  up." 

Miss  Piatt  agreed  with  Mrs.  Thompson,  "I  am  sure  he  is  a 
gentleman,"  she  said,  "and  that  there  is  some  mystery  about 
him  staying  out  here."  Miss  Monroe  was  an  attentive  listener 
while  the  elder  women  were  gossiping  about  her  father's 
young  friend.  She  met  Scully  frequently,  but  when  she  spoke 
to  him  he,  though  respectful,  generally  answered  her  in  mono- 
syllables. 

One  day  she  mentioned  the  fact  to  her  father.  "Your 
friend.  Scully,  is  far  from  sociable." 

"I  never  noticed  it.  He  seems  to  be  popular  with  the  men, 
and  they  all  swear  by  him.  True,  he  doesn't  drink  or  gamble, 
but  when  it  comes  to  having  a  good  time  on  the  field,  he  is  in 
for  it  with  the  best  of  them.  Probably  he  doesn't  pay  as  much 
attention  to  vou  ladies  as  you  think  he  should,"  said  her  father, 
laughing  at  her. 

"O,  I  don't  care,"  retorted  his  daughter.  "Perhaps  he  has 
some  lady  in  Chicago  that  occupies  all  his  thoughts." 

"No,  f  don't  believe  it.  I  don't  think  Mike's  much  of  a 
ladies'  man." 

Miss  Monroe  hoped  the  first  sentence  in  her  father's  opinion 
was  true,  and  that  Mike  Scully  would  change  as  to  the  latter, 
at  least  as  far  as  one  lady  was  concerned. 


Chapter  XXV 

THE  Sl'IDER  AND  THE  FLY. 

Widow  Burdett  was  in  a  frenzy  of  fear  as  she  held  her  un- 
conscious daughter  in  her  arms.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  fly 
for  help,  but  who  could  she  get  at  that  hour  of  the  morning? 
And  then,  to  leave  her  child  in  the  condition  she  was  in,  it 
came  into  her  mind  she  might  die  in  her  absence,  so  she  car- 
ried her  into  the  parlor,  laid  her  on  the  sofa  and  began  to 
bathe  her  temples  and  hands.  In  a  few  minutes,  to  her  great 
relief,  Florence  opened  her  eyes,  and,  seeing  her  mother  bend- 
ing over  her,  closed  them  again. 

"Florence,  darling,  look  up.  What  has  happened  to  you? 
Come,  dear,  speak  to  me.  O,  why  did  I  let  you  go  by  yourself? 
Why  didn't  I  go  with  you?"  She  reproached  herself  in  her 
agony.  "Come,  speak  to  me."  The  girl  burst  out  crying. 
"Never  mind,  darling,  I  will  not  be  angry  with  you.  Come, 
now,  tell  me  what  has  happened  ?" 

Her  mother  lifted  her  into  a  sitting  position,  and,  taking  a 
seat  beside  her,  clung  close  to  her  until  Florence's  head  rested 
on  her  shoulder. 

"Come,  now,  you're  better."  her  mother  said,  entreatingly, 
as  she  removed  the  matted  hair  from  her  forehead  and  stroked 
her  cheek. 

Florence  opened  her  eyes  again  and  looked  around  as  if  in 
fear. 

"I  have  been  so  frightened,  mama.  I  had  to  walk  all  the 
way  home,  and  some  one  followed  me." 

"Well,  never  mind,  dear,  you  are  at  home  now.  You  can 
tell  me  in  the  morning." 

"I  fell  and  hurt  my  knee." 

Her  mother  raised  her  skirts  and  saw  that  her  knee  had 
been  bleeding. 

"I  have  hurt  my  head,  too,"  Florence  continued.  Her 
mother  looked  at  her  brow  and  saw  the  discoloring,  caused 


214  THE   SPIDER   AND  THE   FLY 

when  she  struck  the  girder  in  escaping  from  the  drunken  man 
on  the  viaduct. 

"My  poor  child,"  she  exclaimed.  "Will  I  make  you  a  cup 
of  tea?" 

"No,  ma,  I  want  to  go  to  bed.     I'm  sick." 

Her  mother  took  her  into  the  bedroom  and  helped  her  to 
disrobe.     Her  dress  and  underclothing  were  soiled. 

Many  times  during  the  night  Florence  startled  her  mother, 
who  slept  with  her.  The  girl  would  awake  as  if  in  dread  of 
some  frightful  danger.  Once  she  screamed  and  sat  up  in  bed. 
Her  mother  tried  to  calm  her. 

When  the  time  came  for  Widow  Burdett  to  get  up  it  was  a 
great  relief.     She  hadn't  slept  all  night. 

She  brought  her  child  a  cup  of  tea,  and  as  she  looked  at  her 
it  nearly  felf  from  her  hand.  The  bloom  had  left  her  cheek, 
her  eves  seemed  sunken,  she  was  the  picture  of  distress. 

"Tkke  this." 

"I  don't  want  anything,  ma :  I  want  to  rest." 

"Well,  drink  this,  and  then  lie  down."  Florence  drank  the 
tea.  Her  mother  smoothed  her  pillow.  "Rest  now,"  she  said, 
kissing  her.  "You  will  soon  be  better."  She  went  out,  clos- 
ing the  door  gently  behind  her. 

"What  shall  I  do  ^"  she  thought  to  herself,  as  she  reached  the 
kitchen.  Her  first  impression  was  to  go  to  her  father,  but  she 
knew  he  would  upbraid  her  and  that  her  mother  would  scold 
her  for  letting  Florence  go  alone,  and  Herman  would  be  mad, 
so  she  decided  to  wait.  Possibly  after  Florence  had  some  rest 
she  would  be  better.  Besides,  some  of  her  people  would  more 
than  likely  come  during  the  afternoon.  Maybe  Mrs.  Long  or 
Mrs.  Sloan  might  call,  and  when  they  did,  what  would  they 
say  ?    They  would  no  doubt  blame  her  for  letting  her  go  alone. 

"Yes,  I  am  entirely  to  blame,"  she  would  say  to  herself.  "I 
should  never  have  let  her  go  by  herself." 

During  the  day  she  frequently  visited  the  bedroom  and  asked 
Florence  how  she  was. 

"I'm  better  now,  mama ;  all  I  want  is  rest." 

"Well,  lie  still ;  I  won't  let  any  one  disturb  you." 

As  it  happened,  to  Mrs.  Burdett's  great  relief,  no  one  called 


THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY  215 

that  day,  so  she  was  able  to  give  her  daughter  her  undivided 
attention.  Florence  thought  to  herself,  "How  can  I  tell  my  moth- 
er all  that  has  happened?"  She  couldn't  understand  how  peo- 
ple could  be  so  cruel.  She  blamed  Margy.  She  remembered 
what  some  of  the  girls  had  said  about  her  in  the  store.  She 
didn't  believe  it  then ;  now  she  knew  Margy  was  a  bad  girl. 

She  sobbed  and  bewailed  her  fate,  until  at  last  she  fell  asleep; 
Her  mother  came  in  on  tip-toe,  finding  her  asleep,  arranged  the 
counterpane  on  the  bed  and  retired  noiselessly. 

Florence  slept  for  some  hours.  It  was  supper-time  when 
she  awoke,  much  better  in  body,  but  still  harassed  in  mind. 
She  thought  to  herself,  "How  can  I  go  back  to  the  store  in 
the  morning?"  She  dreaded  Margy's  tattling  tongue,  and  if 
she  didn't  go  back  to  the  store,  what  would  Miss  Brown  and 
Miss  Jones  think  ?  Mary  Vann  would  be  sure  to  inquire  what 
had  become  of  her.  She  couldn't  think  what  to  do  for  the  best. 
If  she  stayed  at  home  tomorrow,  Monday,  her  mother  would 
want  her  to  talk  of  the  ball  and  what  happened  there,  and  how 
she  came  to  be  so  late  in  leaving,  so  she  made  up  her  mind  that 
she  would  go  to  work  in  the  morning.  Perhaps  she  would 
talk  with  Miss  Vann ;  she  was  her  friend.  But,  no,  she  couldn't 
do  that,  but  she  would  go  to  work,  anyhow ;  it  would  give  her 
time  to  think. 

When  Mary  Vann  caught  sight  of  Florence  her  first  words 
were,  "Why,  Flo,  what  ails  you,  girl?    You  look  sick." 

"Yes,  I've  been  sick.     I  stayed  in  bed  all  day  yesterday." 

"O,  I  see!    You  were  at  the  dance  on  Saturday  night." 

"Yes,  I  was  there  and  stayed  too  late." 

"Well,  this  gay  life  doesn't  agree  with  you.  I  suppose  you 
had  a  good  time,  anyhow." 

Just  at  this  moment  a  customer  claimed  Miss  Vann's  atten- 
tion. 

That  noon  Florence  Burdett  didn't  go  to  the  lunch-room, 
she  stayed  in  the  department.  She  gave  as  an  excuse  to  Miss 
Vann's  understudy,  that  she  didn't  feel  like  eating.  Hurrying 
home  as  soon  as  her  day's  work  was  over,  without  seeing  any 
one,  her  mother  greeted  her  kindly,  hoped  she  was  better, 
merely  asking  her  if  her  knee  was  still  sore. 


216  THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY 

"I  think  it  is  much  better,"  she  said,  Hfting  her  dress  so  that 
her  mother  might  inspect  it. 

"It  must  have  bled  a  good  deal,"  her  mother  remarked. 

The  next  day  Florence  stayed  around  the  millinery  counter, 
not  going  near  the  lunch-room.  As  she  came  out  of  the  store 
after  quitting  time,  she  found  Miss  Brown  and  Miss  Jones 
waiting  at  the  door  for  her. 

"Why,  Florence,  what  has  got  into  you  during  the  past  two 
days  ?    Why  didn't  you  come  to  lunch  ?"  inquired  Miss  Brown. 

"I  haven't  been  feeling  well,  so  did  not  eat  anything." 

"You  do  look  poorly,"  said  Miss  Jones.  "What  time  did 
you  leave  the  dance?  we  were  looking  for  you." 

"I  must  have  left  shortly  after  the  supper ;  it  must  have  been 
nearly  one  o'clock.     I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late." 

"O,  then,  you  weren't  there  when  the  row  commenced," 
exclaimed  Miss  Brown ;  "there  was  a  terrible  time  after  you 
left.    You  know  the  big  woman  that  led  the  grand  march?" 

"Yes." 

"Well  she  got  into  a  fight  with  the  other  one,  the  one  with 
the  very  low-cut  dress,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  remember."  said  Florence. 

"Well,  they  called  one  another  the  most  frightful  names 
and  then  began  to  pull  one  another's  hair,  then  Mr.  Hooligan 
came  out  and  began  to  interfere,  taking  sides  with  the  big 
woman,  until  somebody  hit  him  on  the  side  of  the  head  with 
a  pop  bottle,  when  he  ran  away,  shouting  for  a  Mr.  Hart — • 
you  know  the  nice  young  gentleman  who  was  floor  manager?" 

Florence  felt  a  sickening  sensation  as  she  nodded  her  head. 

"But  they  couldn't  find  him,  so  the  man  who  was  taking  the 
money  at  -the  door  came  up  and  tried  to  make  peace,  but  he 
couldn't.  There  was  a  general  row,  Margy's  fellow  in  the 
thick  of  it ;  we  ran  up  on  the  stage  where  the  musicians  were 
sitting.  O,  it  was  terrible ;  then  they  arrested  a  young  man 
they  called  Smith ;  they  say  he  stole  a  man's  watch ;  then  the 
patrol  came  and  the  police  ordered  every  one  out,  and  we  ran 
to  get  our  clothes;  and  what  do  you  think?  when  my  friend 
went  to  get  his  bran  new  overcoat,  that  he  had  made  to  order, 
he  gave  in  his  check,  and,  would  vou  believe  it?  thev  handed 


THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY  217 

him  out  an  old  brown  overcoat,  about  three  sizes  too  big  for 
him,  with  a  patch  on  the  elbow,  and  when  he  protested  that 
that  wasn't  his  coat,  the  fellow  in  the  wardrobe  claimed  that 
that  was  what  the  check  called  for.  My  friend  began  to  argue, 
but  the  policeman  came  along  and  shoved  him  out.  He  ap- 
pealed to  the  police,  but  they  wouldn't  listen.  'Get  out,'  is  all 
they  would  say.  We  stood  around  the  door  for  a  while  to  see 
if  we  could  find  the  young  man  who  was  floor  manager,  but 
he  was  gone." 

"Perhaps  he  was  just  as  bad  as  the  rest,"  chimed  in  Miss 
Jones.     "My!  but  you  look  sick,  Florence." 

"Yes,  I'm  very  sick,  I  must  hurry  home ;  good-night  girls." 

"You'll  be  at  lunch  tomorrow  won't  you?"  inquired  the 
Brown  girl. 

"Perhaps." 

"O  come,  we  miss  you  very  much ;  ta-ta,"  as  they  separated. 

Florence  on  arriving  home  complained  of  not  feeling  well, 
took  a  cup  of  tea  and  went  to  bed. 

A  month  had  passed,  and  the  grand  reception  and  ball  had 
ceased  to  be  a  subject  for  gossip.  One' evening  Florence  had 
only  gone  a  little  distance  from  the  store  when  Hart  met  her. 
"Good  evening,  Miss  Burdett,"  he  said  as  he  lifted  his  hat. 
She  did  not  know  what  to  say  or  do.  Her  first  impulse  was 
to  run  away,  she  was  frightened  at  seeing  him. 

"Come  now!"  he  said  in  a  soothing  tone,  "I  know  you  are 
very  angry  with  me,  but  I  have  come  to  apologize  to  you  and 
make  amends  as  far  as  possible.  You  don't  know  how  much  I 
like  you." 

"Let  me  go!     I  never  want  to  speak  to  you  again." 

"No,  not  until  you  say  you'll  forgive  me.  Come  now,  little 
girl,  don't  be  so  angry." 

"No,  I'll  never  forgive  you." 

"O,  yes  you  will,  I  want  to  have  a  talk  and  explain  matters ; 
you  know  I  had  been  drinking  that  night." 

"Well  you  can't  talk  to  me  tonight,  so  let  me  pass." 

"Whv.  vou  won't  listen  to  me?" 

"No." 

"Well,  some  other  time,  when  vou  are  not  in  such  a  bad 


218  THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY 

humor,  I  suppose  you'll  let  me  see  you  to  the  car,  anyhow?" 

"I  can  find  the  way  to  the  car  myself." 

"I  am  sure  of  that."  Florence  walked  in  the  direction  of 
the  car,  Hart  by  her  side.  As  she  got  on  the  platform  she 
turned  her  head  to  see  where  he  was,  he  lifted  his  hat  and 
bowed  to  her  in  the  most  gentlemanly  manner. 

"My,  but  she's  game,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  turned  to 
walk  away. 

Florence  didn't  know  what  to  think.  It  was  strange  he 
looked  so  respectable,  his  manners  seemed  perfect.  She  re- 
membered his  remark  that  he  had  been  drinking,  it  was  hardly 
clear  to  her  what  he  meant  by  that. 

Determined  to  avoid  him  in  future,  when  she  left  the  store 
the  next  evening  she  went  one  block  north,  instead  of  choosing 
the  direct  way  to  her  home.  She  was  always  in  a  tremor,  as 
she  left  the  store.  His  assertion  that  he  would  see  her  again 
when  she  was  not  in  such  a  bad  humor  was  constantly  ringing 
in  her  ears. 

Hart  had  stood  on  the  corner  the  way  he  knew  she  should 
come  to  get  her  car,  for  four  evenings  before  he  caught  on  to 
her  artifice  to  escape  him.  He  began  to  think  she  must  have 
left  the  store.  He  inquired  of  Rock,  who  asked  Margy  if  she 
was  still  there.  Rock  told  him  she  was.  On  the  next  occasion 
he  tried  to  waylay  her.  He  stood  much  nearer  the  exit,  but 
in  the  number  of  girls  who  came  out  together  he  missed  her, 
failing  to  see  which  way  she  went. 

With  the  persistence  of  a  hunter  for  his  quarry  he  was  de- 
termined to  meet  her.  Her  splendid  personality  and  her  de- 
termination to  evade  him  made  him  keener  in  his  pursuit. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  March  when  he  detected  her 
leaving  the  store.  He  saw  her  glance  around  and  hurry  away 
in  a  northerly  direction.  His  first  impression  was  that  prob- 
ably she  had  changed  her  residence.  He  saw  her  turn  the 
corner  and  go  west,  but  was  afraid  to  follow  her  for  fear  of 
creating  a  scene  among  the  busy  throng  which  at  the  time  was 
leaving  the  many  business  houses. 

He  walked  quickly  south  to  the  nearest  corner  and  then 
west.    He  knew  at  the  speed  he  was  going  he  would  reach  the 


THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY  219 

end  of  the  block  they  were  both  traveling  before  her.  He 
peered  around  the  corner  and  saw  her  turn  south  and  come 
in  the  direction  where  he  was  standing;  as  she  approached  he 
stepped  out  and  confronted  her — she  nearly  ran  into  his  arms. 

He  smiled  as  he  lifted  his  hat ;  she  made  an  attempt  to 
pass  him. 

"Stay  a  moment!  how  are  you  this  evening?"  he  said,  block- 
ing her  way. 

She  was  too  confused  to  make  a  suitable  reply. 

"Going  home,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  may  I  escort  you  part  of  the  way  ?" 

"No !  I  can  find  my  own  way." 

"Come,  now,  you  know  I  w'ant  to  talk  to  you,  and  offer  an 
explanation." 

"I  don't  want  any  explanation.  I  want  you  to  leave  me 
alone." 

"Well  I'll  never  be  satisfied  until  you  listen  to  me." 

Just  then  a  policeman  came  sauntering  along.  Hart  and 
Florence  both  observed  him  at  the  same  time. 

"Miss  Burdett,  I  am  going  away  on  business  for  a  couple 
of  weeks.  When  I  return  I'm  going  to  have  you  listen  to  my 
apolog}^ — and  probably  a  proposal.  You  must  give  me  that 
opportunity.  Until  then,  good  evening,"  hurrying  away,  ere 
the  policeman  had  reached  them.  Florence  stood  for  a  moment 
confused,  and  then  hurried  home. 

During  the  two  weeks  following  her  last  interview  with 
Hart  she  had  often  thought  to  herself  what  was  best  to  do.  To 
appeal  for  aid  against  him  would  necessitate  some  explanation 
— that  was  out  of  the  question,  so  she  ultimately  made  up  her 
mind  she  would  have  to  listen  to  him.  She  would  tell  him 
that  she  desired  to  have  no  further  intercourse  with  him,  and 
then  most  likely  he  would  leave  her  alone. 

The  two  weeks  had  expired,  after  which  she  looked  out  for 
him  each  evening  as  she  left  the  store.  She  had  braced  her- 
self for  the  occasion.  Another  week  had  passed,  but  no  Hart 
had  turned  up.  She  began  to  wonder  why  he  had  not  fulfilled 
his  promise. 


220  THE  Sl'lDliR  AND  THE  FLY 

Xo  apology  that  he  could  make  would  ever  satisfy  her.  of 
that  she  was  certain.  But  what  he  meant  by  a  proposal  began 
to  excite  her  girlish  curiosity.  Nearly  a  month  had  elapsed 
when,  leaving  the  store  one  evening,  she  saw  him  standing  a 
little  distance  up  the  street.  In  spite  of  her  determination  she 
felt  a  tremor  as  she  approached  him.  She  noticed  he  had  on  a 
neat  suit  of  clothes,  a  black  silk  pendant  hung  from  his  fob 
pocket,  his  attire  was  faultless.  "(lood  evening,"  he  said,  lift- 
ing his  hat  in  a  manner  as  if  he  had  studied  Chesterfield. 

"Good  evening,"  she  murmured,  determined  to  be  civil  at 
least. 

"I  suppose  you  had  given  me  up,"  he  said,  smiling,  "the 
facts  are  I  was  detained  longer  away  than  I  expected." 

"It  didn't  make  any  difference  to  me,"  she  replied,  assuming 
a  tone  of  haughty  indifference. 

"Come,  now.  don't  talk  that  way.  you  don't  know  how  much 
I  care  for  you,"  smiling,  "and  how  sorry  I  am  for  misbehaving 
as  I  did.  but  I  will  do  right  by  you." 

"I  know  you  don't  care  for  me,  or  you  would  not  have 
treated  me  so  shamefully  as  you  did." 

"Well,  you're  going  to  give  me  that  interview?"  he  said, 
evading  a  reply  to  her  stricture. 

"Yes.  what  have  you  to  say  ?" 

"Well,  we  can't  talk  here.  Come  into  the  confectioner's  and 
have  an  ice-cream  ;  you  needn't  stay  but  a  few  minutes.  We 
can  sit  down." 

"I  feel  I  shouldn't  go  with  you." 

"Well,  come  along,  anyway." 

As  soon  as  they  were  seated  he  said,  "What  will  you  take? 
Nothing  is  too  good  for  you."  smiling. 

In  spite  of  her  attempt  to  be  serious  she  felt  her  face  re- 
laxing.    "I  will  take  an  ice  cream  soda." 

"I  suppose  you'll  never  forgive  me,"  he  said,  "no  matter 
what  I  do?" 

"No!  I  don't  believe  I  will." 

"Well,  some  day  I'll  make  it  all  right.  I'm  going  to  do  the 
square  thing  by  you.  I've  got  a  little  money  and  as  soon  as  I 
get  some  more  I'll  talk  business." 


THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY  221 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  we  may  get  married." 

She  had  to  smile  in  spite  of  herself. 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it,"  he  continued,  "but  you  re- 
member when  you  left  the  saloon?" 

"I  do,"  she  said  blushing. 

"Well,  I  followed  you  all  the  way  home." 

"You  did?"  she  said,  rising  from  her  chair. 

"Yes,  until  I  saw  you  entering  into  your  own  house." 

"I  don't  believe  you." 

"Do  you  remember  the  drunken  man  frightening  you  on  the 
viaduct  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Well.  I  sent  him  to  the  cleaners." 

"You  struck  him  for  insulting  me — but  you  insulted  me." 

"If  I  did,  I'll  let  no  other  living  man  insult  you." 

"I  must  go  home." 

"May  I  see  you  to  the  car?" 

"You  may.  if  you  like." 

The  fly  had  entered  the  spider's  web: 


From  the  time  of  the  dance  until  the  interview  between  Hart 
and  Florence,  where  a  partial  reconciliation  had  been  affected, 
Florence  treated  Margy  with  marked  coolness.  Margy  knew 
her  secret  and  gloated  over  the  fact;  but  as  Florence  gave 
her  no  cause  for  resentment  she  kept  it  inviolate.  As  for  her- 
self she  didn't  care,  she  was  "Rock's  steady,"  and  didn't  care 
who  knew  it.  Miss  Brown  and  Miss  Jones  had  no  reason  to 
feel  any  bitterness  against  Margv,  they  didn't  look  upon  it 
as  any  crime  to  have  a  sweetheart,  they  themselves  had  young 
men  friends  with  whom  the  most  proper  relationship  was  main- 
tained, and  they  had  no  knowledge  but  that  Mr.  Rock  and 
Margv  were  associated  in  a  similar  manner — true  they  had 
seen  Rock  in  the  thick  of  the  fight  at  the  dance,  but  they  knew 
he  did  not  commence  the  row,  as  they  had  seen  him  and  Margy 
come  in  together  about  the  time  it  started,  and  as  Mr.  Rock 


222  THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY 

was  one  of  the  managing-  committee,  perhaps  he  was  justified 
in  taking  sides  in  the  conflict;  besides  (so  Margy  told  the 
girls),  he  had  done  his  level  best  to  get  Miss  Brown's  young 
man  his  overcoat,  and  had  failed,  but  if  ever  he  could  find  out 
who  had  rung  the  change,  it  would  be  bad  for  him,  whoever 
he  was,  he  would  either  give  up  the  coat,  Margy  said,  or  go  to 
jail,  and  perhaps  get  a  good  beating  into  the  bargain. 

Rock  made  Margy  acquainted  with  the  interview  Hart  had 
with  her  friend,  Hart  had  been  boasting  of  his  conquest,  "She's 
a  stuck-up  little  snot,  Margy  told  me,"  Rock  said  to  Hart, 
after  Hart  had  told  him  of  meeting  her  the  second  time. 

"Fll  pluck  her  tail  feathers,"  was  Hart's  brutal  boast,  "be- 
fore I  get  through  with  her,"  laughing  as  if  it  was  a  good  joke. 

Rock  and  Hart,  like  the  street  car  magnates  in  those  days, 
were  interested  in  crowded  cars.  They  were  good  for  their 
business ;  both  combinations  worked  the  passengers,  there  was 
only  a  diflference  in  their  methods,  the  company  was  satisfied 
to  levy  nickels  from  strap  hangers,  none  of  which  escaped, 
while  Rock  and  Hart  only  touched  a  few— of  course.  Rock 
and  Hart  had  no  ordinance,  if  they  had  they  would  be  only  too 
willing  to  touch  them.  all. 

At  this  time  there  was  an  agitation,  a  number  of  anarchists, 
as  Hooligan  would  call  them,  began  to  raise  the  cry  "No  seat, 
no  fare."  Rock  and  Hart  were  as  much  opposed  to  this  out- 
rageous demand  as  were  the  Philadelphia  and  New  York 
promoters.  The  necessity  of  passengers  having  to  hold  on  to 
straps  in  the  crowded  cars,  put  them  in  a  convenient  position 
for  Hart  and  Rock  to  pursue  their  calling. 

Business  was  good  for  all  concerned,  there  was  no  rivalry 
between  Hart  and  Company  and  the  Phila.-York  Company — 
another  bond  of  unity,  the  alderman  was  kindly  disposed  to 
both  interests,  one  of  which  supplied  him  with  funds,  and  the 
other  with  repeaters. 

Margy,  on  receiving  the  tip  from  Rock  as  to  affairs  between 
Hart  and  Florence,  began  to  feel  as  if  she  could  make  more 
free,  the  only  check  she  had  previous,  was  her  knowledge  that 
Florence  was  a  favorite  of  Miss  Vann,  and  should  any  con- 
troversy take  place  between  her  and  Florence  she  knew  she 


THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY  223 

would  get  the  worst  of  it,  because  out  she  would  have  to  go. 

Now,  things  were  somewhat  changed.  She  greeted  Florence 
cordially  and  Florence  became  a  great  deal  more  sociable  with 
her. 

"I  saw  you  the  other  evening,  Miss  Burdett,"  she  said 
laughingly   on   one   occasion. 

"Did  you?   Where?" 

"O,  you  know  where.  Wasn't  you  in  the  ice  cream  parlor 
with  your  gentleman  friend?"  she  said  laughing.  Florence 
felt  a  little  embarrassed  on  finding  Margy  knew  so  much. 

"Well,"  said  Margy,  continuing,  "there's  no  finer  fellow  in 
Chicago  than  Mr.  Hart,  he's  all  right ;"  and  so  he  was,  as 
measured  by  Margy's  standard. 

Hart  met  Florence  frequently,  he  insisted  upon  escorting 
her  to  the  car,  sometimes  he  took  her  to  the  ice  cream  parlor. 
On  one  occasion,  by  his  persistence,  she  went  and  had  supper 
with  him,  making  an  excuse  when  she  got  home  other  than 
the  truth,  the  first  time  she  ever  deceived  her  mother.  She  had 
been  delayed  at  the  store,  she  said. 

Hart  on  another  occasion  wanted  to  take  her  to  the  theatre. 
She  declined — her  mother  would  not  permit  her. 

"I  will  have  to  go  and  make  the  old  woman's  acquaintance," 
he  said  jokingly  to  her. 

"You  had  better  not,  you  would  get  me  into  trouble ;  mother 
thinks  I  am  too  young  to  have  a  sweetheart  following  me." 

One  afternoon  he  went  into  the  store,  and  going  to  where 
she  was  employed,  spoke  to  her  for  a  minute  or  two.  After 
he  had  gone,  Mary  Vann,  inquired  "Who  is  that  fellow,  Flo?" 

"He  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

"He  looks  pretty  spruce.    What  does  he  do?" 

"He  is  a  clerk,  I  don't  know  just  where." 

"Well,  he  looks  all  right." 

In  spite  of  her  former  aversion  and  the  great  wrong  he  had 
done  her,  Florence  began  to  think  he  wasn't  so  bad,  after  all. 

Hart  ofifered  to  buv  her  a  present,  a  ring,  a  watch,  or  any- 
thing she  wanted.  She  wouldn't  accept  it.  "Mother  would 
want  to  know  where  I  got  it." 

"Well,  here,"  he  said,  placing  a  twenty-dollar  bill   in  her 


224  THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY 

hand,  "buy  something  for  yourself,  or  do  what  you  like  with 
it."  She  wanted  to  decline  it.  but  he  insisted.  She  put  it  into 
her  purse ;  and  felt  for  the  first  time  that  she  was  a  capitalist. 
On  her  arrival  home  that  evening  she  was  in  extra  good  spirits. 
Her  mother  was  pleased  to  note  the  growing  change  in  her 
daughter. 

Florence  didn't  mention  the  twenty-dollar  bill  that  evening. 
The  next  day  at  the  store  she  began  to  wonder  what  she  would 
do  with  it.  If  she  bought  something  her  mother  would  inquire 
where  she  got  the  money.  She  carried  it  around  for  three 
days  until  it  began  to  harass  her.  She  determined  to  tell  a 
He.  She  said  she  found  it.  Her  mother  inquired  where.  The 
girl  not  experienced  in  fabricating,  had  a  difficulty  in  telling  a 
straight  story.  She  stammered  in  her  recital,  but  her  mother 
had  no  suspicion,  saying,  "We  must  read  the  advertisements, 
possibly  some  poor  person  lost  it,  so  we  must  return  it." 

Florence  had  to  read  the  Lost  and  Found  Ads.  in  the  news- 
papers every  evening  for  a  week,  but  none  was  there  to  meet 
the  case.  Mrs.  Burdett  mentioned  the  matter  to  Mrs.  Long 
who  was  visiting  her  one  evening.  "What  do  you  think  we 
should  do  with  it?"  Mrs.  Long  thought  for  a  moment,  "If  it 
was  an  article  of  jewelry,  or  clothing,  or  something  you  could 
make  a  claimant  identify,  you  might  place  an  ad.  in  the  paper ; 
but  being  as  it's  a  twenty-dollar  bill,  you  would  have  fifty 
claimants,  and  if  you  gave  it  to  the  police,  sure !  that  would  be 
the  end  of  it.  So  it's  my  advice  to  you  to  use  it.  It's  a  cer- 
tainty that  whoever  it  is  that's  throwing  twenty-dollar  bills 
around,  don't  need  them  as  bad  as  you." 

Before  the  twenty-dollar  bill  was  properly  adjudicated, 
Florence  had  considerable  experience  in  the  art  of  Ananias. 

Florence,  partly  through  her  attention  to  business,  but 
mainly  on  account  of  Miss  Mary  Vann's  friendship,  had  got 
a  considerable  raise  in  salary.  The  Easter  trade  had  been 
especially  good,  the  millinery  department  in  the  Great  Cleve- 
land Store  had  been  a  howling  success,  as  Mr.  Morris  Cohan 
described  it.  Even  he  commerided  Miss  Burdett,  but  Miss 
Vann  clinched  it  by  demanding  five  dollars  per  week  for  her 
protege  from  Shapiro. 


THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY  225 

"It  can't  be  done."  he  said,  "it  would  establish  a  precedent! 
We  will  give  her  another  dollar,  that  will  make  three  and  a 
half.     Why !  she  hasn't  been  here  six  months  yet." 

"Oh,  never  mind  it."  said  Miss  Vann  snappishly,  "I  will 
talk  to  the  Prairie  people  about  her.  I  think  I  can  get  her  in 
there." 

She  turned  away,  leaving  Shapiro  ruminating.  In  about 
half  an  hour  he  came  back,  and  said  "Mary"  (when  not  in  the 
hearing  of  the  other  employes  he  always  addressed  her  by  her 
Christian  name).  "I  am  going  to  see  the  boss  about  what  you 
were  talking  to  me  a  while  ago." 

The  following  pay  night  Florence  had  a  bright,  crisp  five- 
dollar  bill  in  her  envelope.  Mr.  Shapiro  had  told  her  he  had 
raised  her  wages  on  account  of  her  attention  to  business. 
Florence  knew  better,  she  thanked  Mary  Vann. 

Hart  after  Easter  was  most  assiduous  in  his  attention.  He 
took  her  frequently  to  supper — it  was  many  a  time  after  eight 
when  she  got  home.  Her  excuse  was  that  she  had  to  remain 
after  the  store  was  closed  to  fix  stock  and  prepare  for  the 
morrow.  Her  mother  never  doubted  her  word.  She  told  her 
mother  she  would  have  to  put  a  little  more  style  on  now ;  as 
she  was  one  of  the  regular  salesladies.  To  this  her  mother 
had  no  objection,  in  fact  encouraged  her ;  she  felt  she  was 
hardly  competent  to  plan  her  daughter's  outer  garments. 

The  summer  came.  The  Great  Cleveland  Store  was  going 
to  give  their  help  a  picnic.     Florence  told  Hart. 

"When  is  it  going  to  be?"  he  inquired. 

"Some  time  in  August — we're  all  going." 

"Then  I'll  go,  too." 
.     "Why.  it's  onlv  for  the  help — how  are  you  going  to  go?" 

"Never  mind,  I'll  be  there;  Margv  is  going,  isn't  she?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  Rock  will  be  sure  to  be  with  her.  I'll  ask  a  few  of 
my  friends  to  go.     Where  is  it  going  to  be?" 

"I  don't  know — we  are  going  bv  train.  I  hear  it's  quite  a 
journey,  right  into  the  woods,  they  say." 

"That  will  be  grand.    Count  me  in." 


Chapter  XXVI 


A  FIGHT  TO  A  FINISH. 


One  day  in  autumn,  Jerry  Smith  had  occasion  to  go  to  the 
railway  depot.  He  asked  Mike  to  go  with  him.  "You're  not 
busy,"  he  said,  "and  I'll  show  you  a  little  of  the  country;  we'll 
take  George  with  us." 

"All  right.  I'll  be  glad  to  go." 

After  transacting  the  business  which  occasioned  their  going. 
Smith  suggested  they  would  make  a  few  calls. 

This  was  especially  agreeable  to  Mike,  who  had  a  desire  to 
visit  some  of  the  small  ranches  and  possibly  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  men  employed  on  them,  for,  though  he  had  been 
on  the  Monroe  ranch  for  many  months,  he  was  still  a  com- 
parative stranger. 

It  was  well  on  in  the  afternoon  when  they  started  to  return, 
the  road  leading  past  the  "Cowboys'  Rest."  When  they 
reached  it.  Smith  remarked,  "Let  us  get  ofif  here,  Scully,  and 
see  what's  going  on." 

"I  don't  drink,  as  you  know,"  replied  Scully,  "so  would 
rather  we  would  go  ahead." 

"Come,  we  will  only  stop  for  a  few  minutes ;  some  of  our 
fellows  are  in  here,  and  I'd  like  to  see  what  shape  they're  in." 

With  that  they  dismounted,  throwing  their  lines  to  George, 
who  was  only  too  eager  to  go  in,  after  fastening  their  horses 
to  hitching  posts,  a  number  of  which  were  there  for  the  con- 
venience of  Black  Jack  Murry's  patrons. 

The  cowboys  on  the  Monroe  and  other  ranches  had  recently 
received  their  monthly  pay,  and  were  out  for  a  good  time. 

The  dance  hall,  occupying  a  barn-like  structure  in  the  rear 
of  the  saloon  proper,  was  full  of  gaiety.  The  girls  were  fully 
employed,  dancing  with  their  young  sports,  who  had  to  con- 
duct them  to  the  bar  after  every  dance.  The  rooms  in  which 
roulette  and  faro  were  played  were  also  crowded,  some  betting 
their  money  freely,  others,  who  were  broke,  looking  on. 

226 


A  FIGHT  TO  A   FINISH  227 

Seated  at  a  table  there  were  six  playing  poker ;  piles  of  chips 
were  in  front  of  some  of  the  players.  The  poker  players 
seemed  as  if  they  were  men  of  more  substantial  means  than 
those  around  the  roulette  wheel  and  faro  table.  They  were 
ranchers,  miners  or  foremen.  It  was  a  five-dollar  limit,  so  they 
paid  little  attention  to  those  occupied  at  the  other  games. 

At  the  faro  table  was  a  young  man  of  slender  build,  who 
had  been  betting  with  varying  success.  He  began  to  lose 
heavily  and  expressed  a  desire  to  raise  the  limit,  which  the 
dealer  of  the  cards  persistently  refused  to  do. 

The  gamester  persisted  in  belittling  the  house  for  its  want 
of  pluck  in  not  accepting  his  proposition  to  increase  the  stakes. 

To  this  the  dealer  turned  a  deaf  ear,  confident  of  the  fact 
that  he  would  get  the  sport's  pile  if  he  only  stayed  long  enough, 
while  if  he  was  permitted  to  play  for  an  increased  amount  the 
young  man  might  effect  a  successful  coup  or  two  and,  getting 
his  losings  back,  might  escape. 

He  drank  frequently  and  began  to  show  signs  of  intoxica- 
tion, and  with  it  a  corresponding  loss  of  temper.  Some  were 
playing  at  the  same  table,  but  for  more  modest  amounts,  while 
others  crowded  around  to  watch  the  play  of  the  person  who  had 
such  grit,  or  rashness,  as  it  should  be  considered. 

The  play  was  at  its  height  when  Scully,  Smith  and  George 
entered.  Smith,  who  was  well  known,  met  with  many  saluta- 
tions. He  looked  over  where  they  were  playing  poker.  One 
of  the  players  shouted,  "Hello,  Smith,  you're  just  in  time. 
Pull  up  a  chair;  there  is  room  for  one." 

"Not  today,"  replied  Smith.  "I  have  business  that  must  be 
attended  to :  besides  I  have  a  young  man  with  me." 

"We'll  make  room  for  him,  too ;  bring  him  in." 

"I  don't  believe  he'd  play,"  answ^ered  Smith.  "Besides,  I 
wouldn't  like  to  steer  him  up  against  you  fellows ;  you  all  know 
the  game  too  well." 

"Why,  there's  easy  money  here.  Smith ;  come  and  join  us," 

"No,  thank  you,"  laughingly  said  Smith,  "I  have  ran  up 
against  some  of  you  veterans  before.  I  just  stopped  off  to  see 
if  any  of  our  fellows  had  to  have  a  rig  sent  after  them  to  carry 
them  home." 


228  A  FIGHT  TO  A   FINISH 

"They're  on  hand,"  rephed  one  of  the  players.  "I  noticed 
some  of  your  men  in  the  dance  hall  and  others  bucking  the 
tiger." 

"I  suppose  so.    We'll  see  you  later." 

Scully,  on  entering,  went  over  to  where  he  saw  the  largest 
crowd  of  onlookers.  Smith  joined  him.  "That's  young  Bron- 
son,"  he  whispered,  signifying  the  young  man  who  was  betting 
so  heavily.  "He  is  a  miner.  He  doesn't  come  often,  but  when 
he  does  he  gives  them  a  game." 

"Hey.  there,  what  do  you  mean?    I  won  that  time." 

"No,  vou  didn't,"  replied  the  dealer,  gathering  in  a  number 
of  bills.  ■ 

"Yes.  I  did ;  I  was  on  the  queen." 

"You  bet  on  the  jack,"  replied  the  man  with  the  faro  box. 

"You're  a  liar,"  shouted  young  Bronson,  in  a  towering  pas- 
sion, "and  T  am  gomg  to  have  my  money." 

"You  will,  will  you^"  retorted  the  dealer,  rising  to  his  feet. 

The  crowd  began  to  scatter.  Smith  caught  Scully  by  the 
arm  and  pulled  him  away. 

"What's  the  matter?"  shouted  a  voice  from  behind  the  bar. 

The  dancers  stopped  in  the  hall  and  began  to  peer  through 
the  door  to  see  what  was  the  commotion. 

"Why,  this  stiff,  Bronson,  is  trying  to  bluff  me,"  answered 
the  dealer. 

"Yes,  you  son  of  a  b ,  I'll  bluff  you.     If  you  think  you 

can  rob  me.  you're  damnably  mistaken." 

Thinking  there  was  going  to  be  some  gun  play,  two  of  the 
saloon  hangers-on  got  between  Bronson  and  the  faro  dealer. 

"Bingo!  Bingo!"  shouted  the  man  from  behind  the  bar; 
"where  the  hell  is  that  fellow?" 

At  the  same  moment  a  man  came  running  from  the  dance 
hall.  He  was  a  fellow  of  giant  proportions,  with  close-cropped 
hair  and  of  the  most  forbidding  appearance.  As  he  came  he 
brushed  the  crowd  aside.  He  had  a  star  on  his  breast,  denot- 
ing he  held  some  ofifice. 

"What's  up?"  he  said  to  the  dealer  in  a  voice  that  meant 
trouble  for  some  one. 

"That  fink,"  pointing  to  young  Bronson,  who  was  vainly 


A  FIGHT  TO  A   FINISH  229 

trying'  to  get  nearer  the  dealer,  "says  that  we  are  bunkoing 
him." 

"Come,  young  fellow,"  shouted  Bingo,  "you  can't  make 
such  charges  in  this  house.    Out  you  go." 

"Put  him  out,"  yelled  the  fellow  from  behind  the  bar. 

"Not  on  your  life."  shouted  Bronson,  "until  I  get  my 
money." 

"You  won't  go?"  roared  Bingo,  as  he  grabbed  Bronson  by 
the  shoulder.  Bronson  held  on  to  the  table.  Bingo  pulled  at 
him.  but  could  not  make  him  let  go.  "O,  you  won't,  won't 
you  ?"  and  with  this  he  struck  Bronson  a  violent  blow  on  ihe 
side  of  his  face. 

A  young  girl,  who  could  not  have  been  over  seventeen  years 
of  age,  m  short  skirts,  rushed  from  the  dance  hall  and,  throw- 
mg"  her  arms  around  Bronson's  neck,  begged  Bingo  not  to 
hurt  him.    "I  will  take  him  out,"  she  pleaded,  piteously. 

This  seemed  to  infuriate  the  ruffian,  who  yelled  at  her  to  go 
back  where  she  belonged. 

With  this  he  placed  one  hand  inside  the  handkerchief  round 
Bronson's  neck,  and  with  the  other  caught  hold  of  the  arm  with 
which  Bronson  was  holding  on  to  the  table.  There  was  a 
murmur  amongst  the  crowd  when  they  saw  the  man  being 
strangled,  but  none  thought  fit  to  interfere. 

"I'll  teach  you.  young  fellow,  not  to  be  so  gay  in  the  future," 
as  he  let  go  of  Bronson's  arm  and  struck  him  on  the  side  of  the 
face  twice  in  succession. 

The  girl  again  appealed  to  Bingo  to  let  him  go.  He  made 
a  kick  at  her,  which  she  avoided. 

Bingo  now  got  him  loose  from  the  table,  and,  picking  him 
up  in  his  arms  and  carrying  him  to  the  door,  threw  him  head 
first  on  to  the  road,  where  he  lay. 

The  girl  made  a?  if  she  would  go  to  Bronson's  assistance. 
"Get  in  there,  you  dirtv  little  bitch,"  shouted  Bingo,  as  he  sent 
her  sprawling  on  the  floor  in  the  midst  of  the  group. 

As  she  lay,  he  raised  his  foot  as  if  to  kick  her.  "Don't  do 
that,"  Scully  shouted  at  him. 

"O,  another  one  of  them  !  Ah,  the  tenderfoot  from  old  Mon- 
roe's.    So  you're  going  to  butt  in,  are  you?" 


230  A   FIGHT   TO  A   FINISH 

■'Well,  1  think  you  should  not  ill-use  that  girl,"  replied  Mike, 
now  showing  some  anger. 

Smith,  seeing  trouble  for  Mike,  went  between  him  and  the 
bouncer.  He  held  his  hand  up  to  Bingo,  at  the  same  time  say- 
ing to  him,  "Be  quiet  now ;  it  is  all  over." 

"Smith,  let  me  tell  you,  you'd  better  get  your  friend  out  of 
herC;  or  I'll  give  him  what  I  gave  the  other  fellow." 

The  girl  still  lay  on  the  floor  as  if  afraid  to  get  up.  Bingo 
stooped,  and.  seizing  her  by  the  hair  of  her  head,  lifted  her  to 
her  feet. 

"I  am  not  going  to  stand  for  you  abusing  that  girl  any 
more,"  shouted  Mike,  getting  around  Smith.    "Let  her  go !" 

"You're  looking  for  fight,  are  you  ?"  sneered  the  bully.  "I'll 
give  you  all  you  want  of  it." 

He  pushed  the  girl  from  him,  and,  facing  Mike,  "You'll  go 
out  now." 

"Come,"  said  Smith,  "we  have  had  enough  of  this." 

All  the  games  were  now  stopped,  and  a  number  of  Monroe's 
men  gathered  around  Scully  and  Smith. 

"Out  you  go,"  shouted  Bingo.  , 

"You  come  with  me,"  replied  Mike. 

Bingo  looked  at  him  and  hissed  between  his  teeth,  "You 
shrimp,  I'll  break  you  in  two." 

"Come  and  try  it,"  said  Mike,  as  he  went  toward  the  door, 
followed  by  Smith,  who  was  expostulating  with  him.  Mike's 
blood  was  now  up  and  intercession  was  in  vain. 

"A  fight!  A  fight!"  shouted  some  of  those  who  were  well 
up  in  their  cups. 

The  men  who  had  been  playing  poker  gathered  around  Mike 
and  Smith. 

One  of  them  remarked.  "Why,  he  is  too  big  for  you,  young 
fellow." 

"You  have  not  an  earthly  show  with  him,"  said  another. 

"He  was  brought  as  a  bouncer  all  the  way  from  Boston," 
said  a  third.  "I  understand  there  was  some  talk  of  them 
matching  him  against  Sullivan." 

Mike  paid  no  attention  to  the  remarks,  but  coolly  unloos- 
ing the  handkerchief  from  around  his  neck,  unbuttoned  his 


A   FIGHT   TO  A   FINISH  231 

blue  shirt  and  pulled  it  over  his  head  and  tightened  his  beU  a 
little.  He  looked  thin,  and  his  flesh  was  white.  It  looked  like 
a  guinea  to  a  hayseed  against  him. 

Bingo,  who  had  followed  him  out,  was  brimming  over  with 
good  humor.  He  remarked  to  Smith,  "Hadn't  you  better 
send  over  for  a  wagon  to  take  away  the  remains?" 

The  proprietor  of  the  "Cowboys'  Rest"  had  left  from  behind 
his  bar  to  come  and  witness  the  slaughter. 

One  old  man  who  was  present,  appealing  to  the  crowd,  said 
"It  was  a  shame ;  the  poor  young  fellow  will  be  murdered." 

Bingo  had  stripped  to  his  drawers,  and  was  impatient  for 
the  sacrifice.     A  broad  grin  illumined  his  countenance. 

Mike  was  pale  and  serious.  "All  I  want  you  to  do,"  speak- 
ing to  Smith  and  those  around  him,  "is  to  see  fair  play  for  me, 
and  keep  the  crowd  back." 

"You'll  get  that,"  replied  an  onlooker,  who  seemed  to  have 
great  influence  with  those  present.  "Now,  men,"  he  said,  "I 
want  to  see  that  this  young  fellow  gets  a  square  deal,  and  so 
am  going  to  ask  you  to  form  a  ring." 

"All  right,"  they  rei)lied,  as  they  fell  back. 

Bingo  sat  on  his  boss's  knee,  grinning  and  passing  jokes  with 
those  in  his  immediate  neighborhood.  "Are  you  ready,  young- 
ster?" he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Mike,  as  he  stepped  to  the  front. 

Bingo's  breast  was  covered  with  hair,  his  ponderous  arms 
and  broad  shoulders  denoting  great  strength.  Fie  rushed  for- 
ward in  a  stooped  position,  holding  out  his  hands,  as  if  he  was 
going  to  wrestle. 

Mike  stood  erect,  his  left  arm  advanced,  his  right  across  his 
breast. 

They  sparred  for  a  moment  or  two,  when  Bingo  made  a 
vicious  lunge  with  his  left,  which  Mike  avoided  by  nimbly 
stepping  aside,  both  again  sparring  for  an  opening.  Bingo  fol- 
lowing Mike  around  the  ring.  Bingo  at  length  saw  his  oppor- 
tunity (as  he  thought),  and  rushed  forward.  As  he  did,  Mike 
shot  out  his  left,  hitting  Bingo  straight  on  the  nose,  steadying 
him  for  a  moment.  Bingo  again  tried  to  rush  Mike,  who 
stepped  aside,  at  the  same  time  planting  a  right  hook  on  Bin- 


232  A  FIGHT  TO  A   FINISH 

go's  ear.  The  Monroe  crowd  was  jubilant.  Even  Smith  began 
to  warm  up,  and  whispered  to  Mike  as  he  passed  in  avoiding 
Bingo's  rushing  tactics,  "Keep  him  at  long  range." 

Mike  paid  no  attention  to  any  of  the  advice  that  was  being 
offered  him,  but  kept  liis  eye  on  Bingo,  waiting  an  opportunity 
to  strike  or  to  avoid  Bingo's  rushes. 

Bingo,  for  his  part,  began  to  recognize  that  he  had  a  job  on 
his  hands  and  exerci.'-ed  more  care.  He  continued  to  follow 
]\Iike  around  the  ring,  and  at  length  made  a  dive  with  his  left, 
which  Mike  side-stepped.  Ere  Bingo  could  recover,  Mike 
again  tapped  him  on  the  nose,  which  was  now  bleeding  copi- 
ously. More  sparring  and  a  clinch.  Ere  Mike  could  get  loose 
they  both  fell  to  the  groimd.  Bingo's  ponderous  frame  on  top. 

"Let  him  up,"  shouted  Smith. 

Bingo  was  only  too  glad  to  let  him  up,  as  his  nose  wanted 
attending  to. 

His  friends  rushed  him  to  his  corner :  a  chair  had  been 
brought  from  the  saloon.  He  sat  on  it  while  the  saloon  boss 
busied  himself  wiping  the  blood  from  his  nose,  attempting  to 
stop  the  flow,  a  couple  of  the  saloon  hangers-on  kept  fanning 
him  with  towels. 

Mike  sat  on  the  grass  where  he  fell,  stroking  his  fingers 
through  his  hair,  and  in  answer  to  an  invitation  to  sit  on  a 
friend's  knee,  said,  "I  am  all  right." 

Round  Two. — No  time  was  kept,  so  when  Bingo  was  ready 
he  came  forward.  Mike  jumped  to  his  feet.  He  sparred 
around  Bingo  for  a  time,  feinted  with  his  left,  as  if  to  hit  Bingo 
in  the  stomach.  Bingo  put  his  head  forward.  Scully  upper- 
cut  him.  with  his  right,  opening  a  gash  over  Bingo's  eye,  and 
jumping  away. 

The  blood  was  now  fast  flowing  from  Bingo's  eye  and  nose, 
and  the  crowd  began  to  whisper  he  wasn't  in  it. 

Mike  neither  smiled  nor  frowned,  but  kept  his  eye  fixed  on 
his  adversary. 

Bingo  rushed  to  a  clinch.  They  wrestled,  and  Mike  threw 
him  cleanly,  clearing  himself  and  leaving  Bingo  on  the  ground. 

Monroe's  crowd  set  up  a  war  whoop.  Smith  shouted  at 
them  to  keep  quiet. 


»  A  FIGHT  TO  A   FINISH  233 

Bingo  was  assisted  np  and  led  to  his  corner.  His  handlers 
besfan  to  work  on  him  industriously. 

"You  have  only  to  hit  him  once,"  whispered  Murry,  "and 
it's  all  over.     Rush  him  this  round  and  finish  him." 

Bing-o  nodded  his  head. 

A  chair  had  been  brought  for  Mike  and  he  sat  on  it.  He 
could  have  had  the  house  if  he  wanted  it.  Nine-tenths  of  the 
crowd  was  now  with  him.  He  sat  patiently  until  he  saw 
Bingo  rise  from  his  chair,  when  he  approached  the  center. 

Bingo  was  a  sight.  His  nose  was  swelled  to  an  alarming 
extent,  there  was  a  severe  gash  over  one  eye,  while  the  other 
was  already  discolored.  He  rushed  at  Mike,  who,  without  any 
seeming  haste,  stepped  aside  or  back,  as  occasion  required. 

Up  to  this  time  Mike's  face  was  expressionless.  Now  he 
knit  his  brow,  his  teeth  were  clinched  and  he  became  much 
more  active  on  his  feet. 

Bingo  followed.  The  pace  was  telling  on  him  and  he  began 
to  breathe  hard. 

Mike  still  led  him  on  ;  he  followed.  Mike  got  close  to  him. 
Bingo  lunged  with  all  his  force  with  his  left.  Mike  gave  a 
short  step  to  the  right  and,  with  the  full  force  of  his  whole 
system,  struck  Bingo  on  the  point  of  the  jaw. 

He  fell  like  a  log.    The  fight  was  over. 

The  entire  crowd  gathered  around  Mike,  yelling  and  cheer- 
ing. Some  of  those  who  had  been  playing  poker  shook  him 
by  the  hand. 

If  Smith  had  located  a  new  herd  on  the  plains  he  could  not 
have  felt  more  pleased  or  prouder. 

"Good  boy,  Mike,"  he  shouted,  as  he  tapped  him  on  the  back. 

After  they  had  carted  Bingo  in,  the  landlord  came  over  to 
Mike  and  asked  him  in.  "Nothing's  too  good  for  you,  young 
fellow.    You's  a  peach." 

"All  I  want,"  said  Mike,  "is  a  pail  of  water  to  wash  up  a 
bit."    Bingo's  blood  was  over  his  breast  and  neck. 

The  girls  v.'ho  had  been  driven  back  to  the  dance  hall  were 
craning  their  necks  at  the  windows  to  get  a  look  at  the  hero 
who  had  brought  their  driver  to  the  dust.  They  had  long 
since  forgotten  the  way  to  pray,  or  they  would  have  prayed 


234  A  FIGHT  TO  A   FINISH 

for  him.  As  it  was,  they  rejoiced  in  his  victory  and  each  one 
inwardly  hoped  that  he  might  make  her  acquaintance. 

When  Mike  was  ready  to  leave  the  landlord  said,  "I  hope 
there  will  be  no  ill  feeling,  young  fellow?" 

"Not  a  particle.  I  have  no  ill  will  toward  Bingo,  as  far  as 
I  am  personally  concerned.  I  suppose  he  thinks  he  is  doing 
his  duty." 

"That's  what  I  pav  him  for,"  answered  the  landlord. 

"Well,  come,  .Smith,  let  us  be  going." 

"Good  day,"  said  the  landlord.  "I  am  sorry  you  won't  have 
something  before  you  go.  I  will  be  glad,  however,  to  have 
you  call  at  any  time." 

To  the  latter  invitation  Mike  made  no  reply. 

The  Monroe  crowd,  who  still  kept  close  to  Mike,  determined 
to  go  home  with  him  in  a  body.  Those  who  had  their  ponies 
with  them,  mounted,  and  others  got  on  in  the  rear.  They  were 
all  brimming  over  with  good  humor  and  before  they  started 
gave  a  series  of  war  whoops.  As  they  journeyed  over  the 
prairies  Mike  was  the  only  serious  man  in  the  crowd.  He 
reined  up  his  horse  and  they  gathered  around  him. 

"Now,  boys,"  he  began,  'T  want  you  to  do  me  a  favor. 
Don't  say  a  word  to  any  one  about  what  happened  today.  I 
don't  want  Monroe  to  know.  I  am  sorry  it  happened,  but  if 
you  keep  quiet  for  a  week  or  so  it  will  be  forgotten.  Now, 
will  you  do  this  for  me?" 

"That's  a  pretty  hard  secret  to  keep,"  spoke  up  one.  "Why, 
all  Montana  will  know  of  it  before  a  week.  Bingo,  the  bouncer 
of  the  'Cowboys'  Rest,'  knocked  out  by  a  tenderfoot  in  three 
rounds !" 

"It  wouldn't  keep  in  cold  storage,"  chimed  in  Smith. 

"Well,  let  us  say  nothing  about  it,  anyway.  Let  us  pass  it 
off  as  lightly  as  we  can.    Come,  now,  give  me  your  word." 

"All  right,  Mike,"  was  their  response. 


Chapter  XXVII 

THE   WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Hart  notified  Mort,  Bert  and  Phipps  about  the  picnic  which 
was  to  be  given  to  the  employees  of  the  Great  Cleveland  store. 

"There  will  be  plenty  of  girls  there,"  said  Rock,  who  was 
present  at  the  time,  grinning.  "You  fellows  should  come.  Me 
and  Margy's  going." 

They  all  agreed  to  go. 

Florence  asked  her  mother  to  go  with  her,  but  she  happened 
to  have  some  work  that  had  to  be  finished.  "Take  Herman, 
he  is  not  working,"  she  said.  Herman  was  only  too  -glad 
to  accompany  his  niece. 

It  was  expected  that  every  one  would  provide  their  own  eat- 
ables, as  it  was  to  be  a  basket  picnic.  Florence's  mother  pre- 
pared the  luncheon  for  her  brother  Herman  and  her  daughter. 
While  she  was  packing  it,  she  thought. of  the  years  long  ago 
when  her  husband  was  living  and  they  used  to  take  Florence 
out  to  the  park.  It  made  her  sad  to  think  of  those  happy  days, 
so  soon  blasted  and  gone  forever.  While  going  out  on  the 
train,  a  young  man  came  and  spoke  to  Florence. '  "How  do 
you  do.  Miss  Burdett?"  Her  face  turned  scarlet.  The  young 
man  noticed  she  had  an  escort  with  her,  as  Herman  turned  and 
looked  at  him. 

"Very  well,  thank  you." 

"I  believe  we  are  going  to  have  a  very  fine  day."  he  con- 
tinued. 

"I  hope  so,"  she  replied. 

"Well,  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  out  at  the 
grove,"  he  said  as  he  left,  taking  off  his  hat  and  bowing  to  her 
as  he  departed. 

"What's  his  name?"  inquired  Herman,  when  he  was  gone. 

"Mr.  Hart." 

"Work  in  the  store?" 

She  nodded. 


236  .  THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB 

Arriving  at  the  grove,  many  rushed  off  to  the  platform 
where  the  band  was  arranging  their  instruments,  preparatory 
to  accommodating  the  dancers.  Others  sought  places  where 
they  could  eat  their  lunch,  it  being  near  noon  when  the  train 
arrived. 

"Flo,  we  will  eat  a  little  first,"  said  Herman  to  her.  "I  don't 
want  to  be  carrying  this  basket  around." 

While  they  were  eating,  the  young  man  who  had  accosted 
them  on  the  train  came  over  to  where  they  were  seated  on  the 
grass.    "I  see  you  are  enjoying  yourselves." 

"Yes,"  said  Florence.  "This  is  my  uncle,  Mr.  Herman 
Wosta." 

"Pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Wosta." 

Wosta  extended  his  hand.     "Won't  you  join  us?" 

"Well,  I  don't  like  to  impose  upon  good  nature,  but  if  you 
have  a  spare  sandwich,  I  wouldn't  mind." 

"There  is  plenty  here,"  said  Wosta,  "and  I  want  to  get  rid 
of  this  basket,  anyway,  so  sit  down  and  help  yourself." 

Three  young  men  were  standing  some  distance  away,  ob- 
serving them.  One  remarked,  "Pipe  Red  where  he  is  sitting; 
he's  broke  in  already." 

"Come,  let  us  frost  him,"  said  another,  laughing. 

"No,"  said  the  third,  "don't  queer  his  game;  that  is  the 
young  girl  he  had  up  to  the  dance.  She  is  a  handsome  girl, 
isn't  she?" 

"There's  Rock  and  Margy  off  to  the  dancing  platform,"  said 
the  first  speaker,  on  seeing  Margy  tripping  along  to  where  the 
music  was  playing,  followed  by  Rock.    "Let  us  go  over  there." 

The  three  young  men,  who,  as  our  readers  have  already  sur- 
mised, were  Mort,  Bert  and  Phipps. 

After  Wosta.  Florence  and  Hart  had  partaken  of  the  lunch, 
Hart  proposed  they  should  go  to  where  they  were  dancing. 

"I  don't  mind,"  said  Herman. 

"I  suppose  you  dance,  Mr.  Wosta?"  remarked  Hart,  as  they 
started  in  the  direction  of  the  music. 

"Yes,  a  little."  They  had  no  sooner  reached  the  platform 
than  Florence  spied  Margv  flouncing  around  with  Rock,  her 
head  stuck  close  under  his  chin. 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB  237 

"Hello,"  said  Hart,  accosting  the  three  young  men  pre- 
viously mentioned.  "Mr.  Wosta,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Mr. 
Mort,  Mr.  Bert  and  Mr.  Phipps.  Miss  Burdett,  his  niece." 
They  bowed  to  one  another,  Mort,  Bert  and  Phipps  lifting 
their  hats  to  the  young  lady. 

"Come,  Herman,"  said  Hart,  addressing  his  new  acquaint- 
ance as  familiarly  as  if  they  had  gone  to  school  together,  "se- 
lect a  partner." 

Herman  looked  around  and,  noticing  a  girl  whom  he  had 
judged  correctly  as  coming  from  the  country  the  Rhine  runs 
through,  spoke  to  her  in  German. 

"Yah,"  she  said,  and  the  next  moment  they  were  whirling 
around  in  a  waltz. 

"Come,  Florence,"  placing  his  hand  around  her  waist. 

"You  know  I  can't  dance." 

"Yes,  you  can,"  and  in  a  moment  she,  too,  was  mingling  in 
the  merry  throng.  The  dance  over,  they  came  to  where  Mort, 
Bert  and  Phipps  were  standing,  and  began  to  chat. 

"See  your  uncle,"  said  Hart.  "He  seems  to  be  making  a 
mash.  Look  how  he's  talking  to  that  girl."  Florence  looked 
in  the  direction  where  her  uncle  and  the  German  girl  were  en- 
gaged in  an  animated  conversation. 

"How  do,  Florence." 

"Why,  Mary,  Genevieve,  how  are  you?"  The  two  girls 
looked  at  Hart — they  recognized  him  at  first  glance  as  the  very 
nice  young  gentleman  who  had  acted  as  floor  manager  at  the 
grand  carnival  and  ball  of  the  Five  Jolly  Boys. 

Florence  didn't  introduce  him. 

"Well,  here  are  our  young  men  looking  for  us."  Miss 
Brown  and  Miss  Jones  tripped  away. 

"Who  are  those  girls  ?"  inquired  Hart,  when  they  were  gone. 

"They  work  in  the  store  with  me." 

"It's  a  wonder  you  wouldn't  introduce  a  fellow.  There ! 
there !  that's  a  schottische — come,"  and  away  they  went  again. 

About  three  o'clock  the  prompter  from  the  music  stand  an- 
nounced that  they  were  going  to  commence  the  athletic  sports. 
He  read  off  the  different  races,  and  prizes  to  be  given  for  each. 
The  young  ladies'  race  he  laid  extra  stress  on,  as  the  firm  had 


238  THi:  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB 

donated  a  special  prize  for  that  event.  It  was  an  article  of 
clothing,  millinery  or  jewelry,  anything  the  winner  might 
choose  in  the  store,  to  the  value  of  twenty-five  dollars. 

This  caused  a  buzz  of  expectancy.  None  would  be  allowed 
to  participate  in  this  event  except  those  employed  by  the  firm, 
but  as  four-fifths  of  those  working  in  the  store  were  women 
and  girls,  there  was  no  fear  of  not  obtaining  a  large  field. 

"You're  going  in  on  that,"  said  Hart. 

"No,  I'm  ashamed,"  replied  Florence. 

"Come  on,  Florence,"  said  Miss  Brown,  coming  forward, 
"we're  going  to  run." 

"She's  afraid,"  said  Hart,  addressing  the  speaker. 

"Why,  you  can  only  lose,"  said  Miss  Jones. 

Mort,  Bert  and  Phipps  came  forward  and  joined  Hart  in 
pressing  her. 

Herman  and  his  new  acquaintance  joined  the  group. 

"I'm  going  to  try,"  said  the  German  girl.  The  young  men 
looked  at  her.  She  seemed  sadly  out  of  condition,  carrying  at 
least  thirty  pounds  of  superfluous  flesh. 

Florence  thought  to  herself,  "I  can  beat  her,  anyway." 

The  entries  were  so  numerous  they  had  to  run  in  heats. 
Miss  Brown  was  in  the  first  heat.  There  was  a  scramble  at 
the  start,  the  girls  elbowing  one  another  to  get  good  positions. 
Miss  Brown  got  ofT  badly,  and  at  the  finish  was  counted 
amongst  the  also  ran. 

Herman  Wosta,  who  was  now  acting  as  chaperon  for  his 
young  German  acquaintance,  was  seen  going  down  the  course 
with  the  girl. 

"That's  a  likely  nag  you  have,  Herman,"  shouted  Hart,  who 
was  standing  in  a  group  with  Florence  in  the  center.  Herman 
laughed.  They  got  in  line.  "They're  ofif!"  It  was  seen  that 
Fraulein  came  puf^ng  along  considerably  in  the  rear. 

"Your  filly's  not  in  condition,"  shouted  Mort  to  Florence's 
uncle,  who  was  coming  up  the  course  after  the  runners. 

Florence  laughed  heartily.  She  was  thoroughly  enjoying 
the  sport. 

"Look,  there  goes  Margy,"  as  she  and  Rock  were  seen  go- 
ing to  the  starting  post,  preparatory  for  the  third  heat.     Margy 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB  239 

had  pinned  her  outer  garments  up  in  the  front  so  high  as  to 
display  a  Hberal  portion  of  her  white  stockings.  "I'll  bet  on 
white  socks,"  shouted  Bert.  "White  Sox  against  the  field." 
The  crowd  set  up  a  roar  of  laughter. 

Margy  turned  around  with  fire  in  her  eyes,  toward  where 
the  group  were  standing,  in  which  was  the  person  who  had 
called  the  crowd's  attention  to  the  color  of  her  stockings. 

Bert  ducked  down  so  that  she  wouldn't  see  him.  She  knew 
his  voice,  however,  and  got  a  glimpse  of  Florence  and  those 
near  by  her  laughing. 

As  the  pacers  were  getting  into  line.  Rock  was  seen  shoving 
Margy  into  a  central  position.  There  was  an  altercation,  in 
which  Margy  was  taking  an  active  part. 

"That  will  do;  get  ready."  The  pistol  flashed.  Margy  got 
a  flying  start  and  was  seen  tearing  along  in  front.  She  grabbed 
her  skirts  as  she  ran  and  held  them  up  until  her  garters  were 
exposed. 

"Go  on,  White  Sox,"  roared  the  crowd.  "Go  on !"  "Go 
on  y  Every  man  on  the  ground  was  shouting  encouragement. 
"Pull  up  your  skirts,"  some  roared  to  her.  "White  Sox  in  a 
canter."  "No,  the  one  with  the  blue  dress  has  her."  "Go  on, 
Sox."    The  girls  roared  with  laughter  and  excitement. 

"Sox  wins !"  "Sox  wins !"  was  to  be  heard  on  every  side,  as 
it  was  seen  that  the  girl  in  blue  could  not  entirely  close  the 
gap,  and  so  it  was  Margy  who  landed  in  the  arms  of  the  man 
who  had  to  catch  the  winner,  a  full  yard  ahead. 

"You'll  start  in  the  fifth  heat,"  said  Hart,  addressing  Flor- 
ence, "so  let  us  go  down  near  the  start." 

"No,  I  won't  run  " 

"Go  on!  What  are  you  afraid  of?"  said  Miss  Brown,  who 
had  been  vanquished  in  the  first  heat. 

Hart's  friends  joined  in  pressing  her. 

She  looked  at  Uncle  Herman,  who  had  joined  the  group 
with  his  German  girl,  who  attributed  her  defeat  to  being  too 
stout.  Herman  smiled  at  her,  but  made  no  answer  to  her  look 
at  him. 

"Come  along,"  said  Hart,  coaxingly.  "I'll  bet  ten  dollars 
that  you  can  beat  Margy,  and  she's  surely  favorite  now." 


240  THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB 

Florence  thought  in  her  mind  she  would  like  very  much  to 
beat  Marg> — she  still  harbored  a  little  grudge  against  her. 

Mort,  Bert  and  Phipps  still  continued  to  press  her,  and  she 
ultimately  gave  way  and  went  toward  the  post  while  the  fourth 
heat  was  getting  ready  to  start,  followed  by  her  supporters. 

"Are  your  boots  tightly  laced?"  whispered  Hart  to  her. 

"No,  i  think  one  of  them  is  a  little  loose."  Hart  immediately 
went  down  on  one  knee  and  adjusted  the  laces. 

"You're  all  right  now,"  he  remarked,  as  he  stood  up, 
"You're  sure  to  win,"  he  said,  encouragingly. 

The  fourth  heat  had  no  sooner  started  than  Hart,  Bert  and 
Phipps  pushed  Florence  into  the  center,  at  the  starting  place, 
and  stood  close  behind  her  to  see  that  no  one  would  dispute 
her  right  to  the  position. 

"You  young  gentlemen  will  have  to  stand  back,"  ordered  the 
starter. 

"We're  in  nobody's  road,"  replied  Mort. 

"Now,  Florence,"  Hart  whispered  to  her,  "look  out." 

"They're  off!"  It  was  a  fair  start.  Florence  and  a  very 
tall  girl  on  her  right  seemed  locked  together.  It  was  a  desper- 
ate struggle.  She  could  hear  the  shouts  of  Hart  and  his 
friends  behind  her  roaring,  "Go  on,  Florence,  you  have  her!" 

Florence  had  no  idea  whether  she  had  or  not.  She  was 
straining  every  nerve,  her  eyes  were  on  the  people  behind  the 
tape,  and  step  by  step  she  seemed  to  be  leaving  her  closest  com- 
petitor, and  the  roar  of  the  crowd  she  could  hear  shouting, 
"The  blonde  wins !"  "The  blonde  wins !"  Her  friends  in  the 
rear  were  yelling  so  that  their  voices  could  be  heard  above  the 
din  of  the  multitude,  "Go  on,  Florence !"  "Go  on,  Florence, 
you  have  her !"  Nearer  the  goal  she  made  an  extra  effort  to 
shake  off'  the  girl  who  had  clung  close  to  her  all  the  way,  and 
breasted  the  tape  a  bare  half-yard  ahead. 

The  other  girls  in  the  race  were  beat  a  distance. 

Hart,  Herman  and  the  rest  of  her  friends  danced  around 
her  "There's  nothing  to  it,"  shouted  Hart.  "She'll  win  the 
final  in  a  canter."  Florence  looked  appreciatingly  at  her 
champion. 

"What  do  you  think,  Mort?"  Hart  inquired. 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB  241 

"She  can't  lose,"  was  Mort's  tip.  "I'm  going  to  have  a  Httle 
on  her  if  there  is  any  betting." 

"Come  on,  Herman,"  Hart  said  to  her  uncle,  "let  us  go  and 
sit  down  somewhere.  Never  mind  the  balance  of  those  heats. 
We'll  see  the  final."  Florence  was  only  too  glad  to  sit  down. 
She  felt  exhausted  after  the  hard  tussle  she'd  had  in  beating 
the  girl  who  hung  on  to  her  so  persistently. 

Mary  Vann  and  Mr.  Shapiro,  who  in  company  had  wit- 
nessed the  race,  sought  out  Florence.  On  finding  her.  Miss 
Vann  was  lavish  in  praise  of  her  protege.  "You  did  splendid, 
little  girl.  I  feel  proud  of  you,  and  if  you  win  I'm  going  to 
add  something  to  the  prize." 

Mr.  Shapiro,  as  became  the  dignity  of  the  manager  of  the 
Great  Cleveland  store,  remarked,  "She  ran  well." 

"Well,  if  she  wins,  Fll  see  you  give  her  good  value  for  the 
twenty-five- dollar  prize.  Remember,  retail  prices  won't  go, 
but  cost,  with  a  little  rebate." 

Mr.  Shapiro  laughed,  while  the  group  looked  at  Mary  ad- 
miringly. 

"Don't  be  afraid  to  pin  up  your  skirts,"  was  Mary  Vann's 
recommendation,  as  she  and  Mr.  Shapiro  walked  avi^ay. 

Miss  Jones  joined  the  group.  She  had  been  vanquished  in 
the  seventh  heat.  She  attributed  her  defeat  to  a  nasty  thing 
who  placed  her  elbow  before  her  just  as  she  was  coming  to 
the  front.  "Only  for  that,  I  am  sure  I  would  have  been  in  the 
final." 

Hart  called  his  friends  aside  and  held  a  conference  with  his 
three  partners  in  crime. 

"Let  us  have  a  little  fun,"  he  suggested.  "Go  and  tell  Rock 
to  ofifer  to  bet  fifty  dollars  on  Margy." 

"A  capital  joke,"  said  Bert,  "if  it's  worked  right." 

"You  go,  Phipps,"  said  Hart.  "Tell  him  not  to  let  on  to 
Margy  that  it's  only  a  bluff." 

"Then  if  she  should  happen  to  win  he'll  have  a  hell  of  a  time 
with  her,"  chimed  in  Mort.    "She'll  want  half  the  stake." 

"I  don't  think  he  has  fifty,"  continued  Mort,  "so  we'd  better 
send  him  over  some.  I  have  it  here,  Joe.  Don't  let  any  one 
see  me  give  it  to  you." 


242  THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB 

Mort  gave  Phipps  two  twenties  and  a  ten. 

Phipps  was  going  away  when  Hart  called  him  back.  "Tell 
him  to  want  Mort  to  hold  the  money.  I'll  object,  and  after  a 
little  jolly  we'll  put  it  in  the  Dutchman's  hand;  he'll  never 
tumble." 

There  were  eleven  girls  to  run  off  for  the  prize,  two  having 
ran  a  dead  heat  in  one  of  the  preliminaries ;  it  was  agreed 
to  let  both  run  in  the  tinal.  All  the  contestants  had  their  ad- 
mirers and  supporters  and  the  rivalry  was  strong.  On  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  ground  groups  could  be  seen  around  a  central 
figure,  in  one  a  young  woman  in  a  brown  dress  seemed  to  be 
well  known.  It  was  rumored  that  she  had  won  many  races  at 
picnics  during  the  summer.  The  crowd  around  her  was  mostly 
com.posed  of  youngsters.  She  had  won  the  eighth  heat  in  a 
walk,  as  the  sports  say.  One  of  the  defeated  girls  complained 
she  "was  a  ringer"  (whatever  that  is). 

Another  openly  charged  that  she  was  a  professional.  She 
only  smiled  at  them  as  she  went  away,  after  being  declared  a 
winner,  followed  by  her  friends. 

The  cornet  player  blew  a  blast  on  his  cornet  for  them  to  get 
ready  for  the  final  heat.  A  youngster  about  seventeen  years 
of  age  was  seen  coming  from  where  the  girl  in  brown  was 
seated.    He  approached  Florence's  circle. 

"How  are  we  going  to  fix  de  line  dis  time?"  he  inquired,  ad- 
dressing Hart. 

"As  we  did  before,"  Hart  answered. 

"Well,  we're  not  going  to  be  put  on  de  outside  where  de 
crowd  is,"  said  the  boy,  defiantly. 

"We  don't  care  where  you  put  yourself,"  said  Bert.  A  num- 
ber came  forward,  hearing  the  argument. 

"Well,  if  you  think  you're  going  to  put  it  over  on  us,  you're 
mistaken,"  he  said,  turning  away. 

"Go  chase  yourself,"  shouted  Mort. 

"You'll  see,"  was  the  youngster's  threat  as  he  left. 

Rock  at  this  moment  was  seen  elbowing  his  way  through 
the  crowd  that  had  gathered. 

"I  understand  there's  been  some  bluffing  going  on  here — 
some  talk  of  betting?" 


THE  VVOLF  AND  THE  LAMB  243 

"What's  that  you  say?"  inquired  Hart,  turning  sharply 
around ;  he  had  been  whispering  something  to  Florence. 

"I  hear  some  of  you  fellows  want  to  bet,"  said  Rock,  con- 
fronting him. 

"Well,  how  do  you  want  to  bet?"  retorted  Hart. 

"I'll  bet  Miss  Margy  Jenkins  beats  her." 

"How  much  have  you  ?"  inquired  Hart,  snappishly. 

"Fifty  dollars,"  said  Rock,  pulling  out  the  money. 

"I'll  go  you." 

"Mr.  Hart,"  whispered  Florence,  rising,  "I  don't  want  you 
to  bet  on  me." 

"You  never  mind,"  he  said,  feigning  impatience,  "I  know 
what  I  am  doing." 

"Who's  going  to  hold  this  money?"'  inquired  Hart, 

"Put  it  in  this  man's  hands,"  said  Rock,  pointing  to  Mort. 

Hart  demurred  to  making  Mort  stake-holder. 

"Why,  you  know  him,"  continued  Rock. 

"Yes,  I  know  him,  but  knowing  him  and  putting  fifty  bucks 
in  his  hands  is  a  different  thing.  Let  this  man  hold  the  stakes," 
pointing  to  Herman  Wosta. 

"I  don't  know  him  from  a  side  of  sole  leather,"  said  Rock, 
with  a  leer. 

"Oh,  he's  all  right,"  chimed  in  Mort.     "You  can  trust  him." 

"Will  you  go  good  for  him?"  said  Rock,  inquiringly. 

"I  don't  want  to  hold  the  money."  protested  Herman,  totally 
innocent  of  the  scheme. 

"You  hold  the  money,"  said  Hart,  thrusting  his  fifty  dol- 
lars into  Herman's  hand. 

"Well,  if  you  say  it's  all  right,  Henry."  Rock  covered 
Hart's  fifty. 

Florence  was  fearfully  embarrassed.  She  was  beginning  to 
feel  nervous.  The  crowd  by  this  time  was  twenty  deep  around 
her. 

The  youngster  who  came  to  represent  the  girl  in  brown 
pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd. 

"I'd  like  to  make  a  little  bet  wid  vou,"  he  said,  addressing 
Hart. 

"What  do  you  want  to  bet?" 


244  THR  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB 

The  youngster  held  a  whispered  conversation  with  three 
others  about  his  own  age.    One  was  heard  to  say,  "Bet  it  all." 

"I'll  bet  you  five  seventy-five  dat  Miss  Stern— dat's  de  girl 
wid  de  brown  dress — comes  in  before  her." 

"You're  on,"  said  Hart,  producing  a  five  and  a  one-dollar 
bill ;  "put  it  in  this  man's  hand." 

The  young  sport  looked  Herman  all  over. 

"Go  on,"  said  Phipps,  "He's  holding  a  hundred  already." 
The  money  was  deposited. 

"I've  seen  de  starter  and  he  says  you'll  have  to  draw  for 
places,"  the  youngster  informed  them,  as  he  turned  to  get  Miss 
Stern  in  trim  for  the  race,  followed  by  his  associates. 

The  final  call  for  the  start  was  given.  There  was  a  rush 
from  all  sides  to  get  places.  The  contestants  were  seen  com- 
ing from  their  paddocks,  as  it  were.  A  number  of  volunteers 
had  been  pressed  into  service  to  keep  the  crowd  back,  some  of 
them  armed  with  sticks.  "Keep  back  and  give  the  girls  a  fair 
show,"  was  the  appeal  of  those  engaged  in  keeping  the  course 
clear. 

Margy  was  seen  coming  down  the  course,  attended  by  Rock. 
She  had'  her  dress  and  underskirts  pinned  up  so  high  that  one 
might  have  observed  her  garters.  "Here  comes  White  Sox," 
was  the  acclaim,  a  number  began  to  clap  their  hands,  and  the 
word  that  her  young  fellow  had  bet  fifty  dollars  on  her  was 
passed  along  the  line. 

"If  you  win,"  shouted  a  man  on  one  side,  as  she  was  passing, 
"we'll  get  you  a  job  from  Charlie  Comiskey  to  run  the  bases 
for  some  of  them  slow  coaches  of  his."  There  was  a  general 
laugh ;  Margy  smiled  at  the  author  of  the  witticism.  As  she 
neared  the  starter  she  got  an  ovation. 

Miss  Stern  came  cantering  down  the  course,  followed  by  her 
backer  with  her  coat  on  his  arm.  About  midway  she  sprinted, 
showing  a  burst  of  speed. 

"My,  but  she's  a  goer,"  was  remarked  by  many.  "I  think 
she's  a  winner,"  said  an  elderly  man,  who  seemed  to  be  alone, 
but  as  was  afterward  found  out  was  the  proprietor  of  the 
Great  Cleveland  Store. 

Other  girls  came  down  the  center  of  the  course  escorted  by 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB  245 

their  friends,  but  got  little  attention,  except  a  few  remarks  from 
some  of  the  yovmg  men  along  the  line  as  to  some  peculiarities 
in  them. 

Around  the  starter's  place  there  was  a  throng. 

"Come,  draw  for  positions,"  said  the  starter,  holding  a  hat 
in  his  hand,  high  enough  to  prevent  any  one  looking  in,  ''and 
remember,  No.  1  is  on  the  right,  here,"  pointing  to  the  posi- 
tion, "No.  2  is  next  and  so  one  until  eleven  is  on  the  extreme 
•left." 

Miss  Stern's  trainer  and  backer  was  the  first  to  draw.  "Num- 
ber tree,"  he  shouted.  "Dat's  good,"  said  his  chum.  Miss 
Stern  went  toward  the  position  and  viewed  the  track  ahead  of 
her  in  a  critical  manner.  "That's  all  right,"  she  remarked  tc 
her  backer ;  "couldn't  be  better." 

Rock  was  next.  He  drew  Number  5.  He  showed  the  slip 
to  the  man.    "Come  here,  Margy."    Margy  took  her  place. 

Florence  had  been  brought  to  the  starting  place  outside  the 
crowd.  The  boys  saw  she  was  nervous,  so  kept  her  out  of 
view  of  the  spectators  as  much  as  possible. 

Miss  Jones  and  Miss  Brown  had  atteftded  to  her  prepara- 
tions, which  consisted  of  pinning  her  skirts  a  little  up  in  front. 
They  wanted  to  pin  her  petticoats  up,  too.  "Ever  so  little," 
said  Miss  Jones,  "so  as  to  give  more  freedom  to  your  knees." 

"No,"  said  Florence,  emphatically,  "that  will  do."  The  em- 
broidery on  the  bottom  of  her  white  petticoat  could  be  seen 
just  above  her  shoe  tops. 

"You'd  better  go  draw  for  her,  Herman;  I'd  be  afraid  I'd 
draw  a  blank,"  said  Hart,  laughing. 

Herman  drew  Number  7. 

The  starter  had  difficulty  in  keeping  the  girls  in  line,  some 
in  their  eagerness  wanting  to  poach  a  few  inches. 

"Keep  back  there,  miss,"  was  his  frequent  appeal. 

Hart's  last  instructions  to  Florence,  as  he  tapped  her  gently 
on  the  shoulder,  was,  "You  keep  still,  never  mind  anybody. 
Keep  your  ears  open  for  the  sound  of  the  pistol,  and  your  eyes 
straight  ahead.  If  we  win  the  bit  of  money,  we  may  need  it 
in  the  future,"  he  whispered  into  her  ear.     She  smiled  at  him. 

There  were  three  false  starts.    One  girl  would  run  away  and 


246  THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB 

three  or  four  would  follow  her.  On  one  occasion  Florence 
took  one  step  forward,  but  stepped  back  immediately. 

Miss  Stern  stood  like  a  statue,  her  left  arm  extended.  Mar- 
gy  kept  prancing,  eager  for  the  fray,  her  head  down,  her  shoul- 
ders up. 

A  flash  of  the  pistol,  there  was  a  roar — "They're  oflF!" 

"Miss  Stern  in  a  walk,"  yelled  her  backer. 

"Go  on,  Margv,"  shouted  Rock  at  the  pitch  of  his  voice. 
"White  Sox!     "White  Sox!" 

Ere  half  the  distance  was  traveled  it  looked  as  if  it  would 
be  a  race  between  the  Stern  girl  and  Margy.  Florence  had 
lost  a  half  yard  at  the  start,  she  was  still  third,  the  gap  between 
the  first  three  and  the  other  eight  was  gradually  widening  and 
some  had  already  given  up  the  chase. 

"Brownie  wins !  Brownie  wins  !"  yelled  the  crowd.  "Come 
on,  White  Sox."  "Come  on,  White  Sox."  "Good  girl,  keep 
at  it." 

"The  blonde,"  shouted  a  man.  "Look  at  the  blonde," 
echoed  the  crowd,  as  they  saw  Florence  gradually  closing  the 
gap  between  herself  and  the  two  other  leaders.  "The  blonde !" 
"The  blonde!"  "The  blonde!"  developed  into  a  roar  as  they 
saw  Florence  and  Miss  Stern  side  by  side,  straining  every 
nerve. 

"The  blonde !"  "The  blonde !"  "The  blonde !"  was  shouted 
as  fast  as  tongue  could  proclaim  the  sound.  A  final  roar  went 
up,  "The  blonde  wins !"  as  Florence  breasted  the  tape  a  few 
inches  ahead  of  her  nearest  competitor,  Margy  scarcely  a  yard 
behind. 

Hart,  Mort,  Bert  and  Phipps  jumped  for  the  referee.  "Miss 
Burdett  wins,"  shouted  Hart  into  his  ear.  "By  nearly  a  yard," 
exclaimed  Mort. 

"No,  no."  said  the  man,  "hardly  a  foot." 

"She's  won,  anyhow,"  said  Phipps. 

"Oh,  yes.  she  won,  that  brown  girl  second,  the  little  girl 
with  the  white  socks  third." 

Florence  still  lay  panting  in  the  arms  of  the  man  who  caught 
her,  Hart  ran  forward  and,  taking  her  from  him,  kissed  her 
(he  apologized  to  her  uncle  after,  saying  he  was  so  excited,  he 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB  247 

didn't  know  just  what  he  was  doing).  "O,  that's  all  right," 
said  the  good-natured  Herman,  who  never  felt  so  proud  in  his 
life. 

"That's  not  fair,"  shouted  Miss  Stern's  backer,  supported  by 
a  number  of  his  chums ;  "Miss  Stern  won  fairly." 

"Get  out,  you  snipe,"  roared  Hart  at  him,  "I'll  give  you  a 
belt  on  the  jaw,"  and  he  stepped  back  as  if  to  carry  his  threat 
into  execution. 

Phipps  shoved  the  youngster  violently  away. 

"Come,  now,"  said  Mort,  "let  us  have  no  quarreling.  Miss 
Burdett  won  fairly,  didn't  she.  Miss  Stern?"  The  girl  nodded 
her  head. 

Margy  congratulated  Florence.  As  she  was  only  third  she 
couldn't  feel  sore.  If  she'd  been  second  she  would  never  have 
forgiven  her. 

"Where's  my  girl?"  shouted  Miss  Vann,  running  forward 
and  taking  Florence  in  her  arms  and  kissing  her,  Mr.  Shapiro 
looking  on.  The  elderly  man  who  had  given  the  girl  in  brown 
as  a  tip  came  and  spoke  to  Shapiro.  Miss  Vann  joined  them, 
still  singing  the  praises  of  her  girl. 

"Let's  go,"  said  Hart ;  as  they  moved  away  the  crowd  fol- 
lowed them.  They  went  toward  the  dancing  pavilion.  Flor- 
ence was  flushed. 

"You're  tired,"  Hart  said  to  her,  tenderly. 

"No,  I'm  all  right." 

"Then  come,  we'll  have  this  dance  and  will  get  away  from 
the  crowd." 

Florence  was  lost  amongst  the  dancers. 

After  the  dance  was  over  the  group  met  in  a  corner  of  the 
pavilion.  Herman  Wosta  gave  Hart  the  stakes.  "The  stake- 
holder has  a  right  to  some  commission,"  said  Hart,  laughing. 

Herman  protested,  "I  don't  want  any  commission." 

"Well,  buy  yourself  a  hat.  anyway,"  Hart  said,  thrusting  the 
five-dollar  bill  into  Herman's  hand. 

Herman  tried  to  force  him  to  take  it  back,  but  Hart  wouldn't 
have  it.    He  was  still  seventy- five  cents  to  the  good. 

"Put  on  your  wraps  and  we  will  steal  away  for  a  stroll." 

As  soon  as  the  dance  was  over  and  before  Herman  could 


248  THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB 

miss  his  niece,  she  and  Hart  were  going  toward  the  grove, 
where  the  trees  were  thickest.  They  were  soon  lost  sight  of 
by  their  friends. 

When  they  had  got  some  distance  away,  Hart  told  her  there 
was  a  hotel  and  restaurant  a  little  way  up  the  road.  "We  will 
go  and  have  something  to  eat."     She  offered  no  objection. 

As  they  strolled  along  he  began  to  talk  of  their  first  meeting. 
Six  months  ago  she  wouldn't  have  listened  to  him  for  a  mo- 
ment on  the  subject.  As  it  was,  the  recollection  caused  her  a 
pain. 

Reaching  the  hotel,  they  entered  the  dining  room, 

"I  never  rememiber  being  so  hungry,"  he  remarked.  "Have 
you  any  mushrooms?" 

"Yes,  sir."  said  the  waiter  who  was  in  attendance. 

"Then  two  nice  steaks  with  mushrooms.  See  that  the  meat 
is  tender." 

While  they  were  waiting  he  began  to  tell  her  (a  pipe  story) 
of  his  bright  prospects  in  the  future,  of  some  rich  relations  he 
had.  She  listened  to  him  attentively.  It  was  some  time  before 
the  waiter  arrived  with  their  order.  It  looked  tempting.  The 
excitement  and  exertion  had  whetted  Florence's  appetite. 

"We  must  have  something  to  drink,"  he  said,  looking  at 
her.     "What  will  you  have?" 

"I  never  cared  for  anything  only  that  we  had  at  the  supper 
table  that  night ;  that  was  nice." 

"Well,  I've  won  fiftv,  so  we  can  afford  a  bottle."  He  beck- 
oned the  waiter.     "Have  you  any  Mum's?" 

"No,  sir,  we  have  Cliquot's." 

"Then  bi-ing  us  a  quart  bottle." 

Ere  the  supper  was  over  the  lamps  had  been  lit  in  the  hotel. 

"Come.  Red  "  Florence  said,  sprightly,  "we  must  go  back — 
my  friends  will  have  missed  me." 

It  was  quite  dark.  Florence  took  his  arm.  "Let  us  hurry," 
she  said.  As  they  approached  the  grove  all  was  quiet.  She 
became  alarmed.  "Let  us  run."  Ere  they  reached  the  railway 
track  there  were  three  loud  screeches  from  the  engine  whistle. 
She  had  noticed  in  going  to  the  hotel  the  cars  standing  on  a 
siding.     Now  they  were  gone. 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB  249 

She  ran  into  the  Httle  depot,  Hart,  not  seeming  to  be  in 
much  hurry,  following  her.  "What  has  become  of  the  people 
that  were  at  the  picnic  ?    Is  this  the  right  place  ?" 

"The  train  pulled  out  about  five  minutes  ago,  miss.  You 
see  they  have  no  lights  in  this  grove." 

She  threw  herself  down  on  a  bench.  "What  will  I  do?"  she 
lamented.  "Oh,  what  will  I  do?"  Hart,  who  came  leisurely 
along,  professed  surprise.     "Too  bad ;  too  bad." 

"What  will  we  do?"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him.  "When 
does  the  next  train  pass  here?" — this  to  the  station-master,  as 
an  idea  seemed  to  strike  her. 

"Nothing  until  eleven  in  the  morning,  miss."  She  was 
stunned. 

"What  are  we  to  do^"  again  she  said  to  Hart. 

"I  see  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  back  to  the  hotel,"  he  replied 
calmly. 

"No,  I'll  stay  here." 

"We  close  up  here  when  the  freight  goes  by,  miss." 

'Does  it  go  in  the  direction  of  Chicago?"  Why  she  asked 
she  didn't  know. 

"No,  miss,  it  comes  from  Chicago."    Her  last  hope  had  fled. 

"You  have  a  telegraph  operator  here?"  inquired  Hart. 

"Yes,  he's  still  here,"  looking  in  at  the  window  where  the 
operator  was  seated. 

"Will  he  take  a  message?" 

"Yes,  of  course,  he  will." 

"What  is  your  number,  Florence?"  She  told  him  and  he 
wrote : 


'Marv  Burdett, 


"Have  unfortunately  missed  train,  looking  for  Herman. 
Going  to  stav  in  farmhouse.    Don't  be  alarmed. 

"Florence." 

He  gave  it  to  the  operator.  "Night  dispatch,"  he  said,  as 
he  handed  it  in. 

"Let  us  walk  back  to  the  hotel." 

She  went  with  him  in  silence.  Reaching  there,  he  ordered 
another  bottle  of  champagne.     Florence's  throat  was  parched. 


250  SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD 

she  felt  faint ;  she  drank  some  of  it,  how  much  she  didn't  know. 

He  went  up  to  the  clerk's  desk. 

"Can  we  stay  here  tonight?  We  spent  too  long  over  our 
supper,"  he  said,  smiling,  "and  have  missed  the  train.  My 
wife  is  very  much  put  out." 

"I  can  accommodate  you.''  The  clerk  handing  him  the  reg- 
ister, he  wrote: 

"John  B.  Morgan  and  wife,  Chicago." 

Florence  by  this  time  was  in  a  condition  between  resignation 
and  despair.  Hart  pressed  her  to  drink  more  of  the  cham- 
pagne. He  gloated  over  his  conquest ;  he  thought  it  was  com- 
plete. 


Chapter  XXVHI 
scully  in  bad  and  good. 

The  news  of  the  fight  between  Scully  and  the  bouncer  at 
the  "Cowboys'  Rest"  was  too  good  to  remain  long  a  secret; 
those  not  connected  with  the  Monroe  ranch,  who  had  witnessed 
the  conflict,  spread  it  everywhere.  It  was  the  talk  at  the  mines. 
Young  Bronson,  laid  up  in  bed  from  the  ill-usage  he  had  re- 
ceived from  Bingo,  was  highly  elated,  and  resolved  as  soon  as 
he  was  able  to  pay  his  respects  to  Mike. 

"I  know  it  was  not  for  me  he  put  up  the  scrap,  but  in  defense 
of  poor  little  Meta ;  so  you  tell  me  he  put  him  down  and  out  in 
three  rounds?"  This  remark  was  made  to  a  friend  that  sat 
by  his  bedside. 

"Yes,  siree." 

"Glorious !     He  must  be  a  scrapper." 

"Well,  I  should  say  he  is." 

Monroe  heard  of  the  fight  at  a  distant  ranch  he  had  visited 
the  day  afterward,  none  of  his  own  men  having  mentioned  it, 
though  he  had  talked  to  many  of  them  that  morning  before  he 
left  home. 

"So  you  tell  me  that  Mike  slugged  him  good?" 


SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD  251 

"Slugged  him's  no  name  for  it ;  he  knocked  the  stuffings  out 
of  him." 

"Well !    Well !    And  you  tell  me  Smith  was  there  ?" 

"Yes,  and  that  voung  coon  of  yours  and  a  number  of  your 
men." 

"The  young  rascal.  Why,  he  hitched  my  horse  up  for  me 
this  morning,  and  never  said  a  word  about  it ;  now  I  remem- 
ber, he  was  in  particular  good  humor ;  he  seemed  tickled  to 
death.  T  asked  him  what  he  was  laughing  at,  and  he  said, 
'Nuffin,  mister,'  so  I  paid  no  further  attention  to  him.  I  also 
was  talking  to  Randal — he  must  have  heard  of  it." 

"I  suppose  they  didn't  want  you  to  know." 

"It  seems  not." 

Monroe  made  a  few  calls  during  the  day,  and  everywhere 
he  went  it  was  the  subject  of  conversation. 

"Who  is  that  young  fellow,  Scully,  you  have  over  at  your 
place,  Monroe?"  was  the  inquiry  at  most  of  the  places  he 
visited. 

"A  young  fellow 'I  brought  with  me  from  Denver.  Why, 
what  about  him?" 

Monroe  was  anxious  to  hear  the  opinion  the  people  had  of 
his  protege,  and  wished  to  draw  them  out. 

"Didn't  vou  hear  about  the  fight  he  had  yesterdav  at  the 
Rest?" 

"Yes,  I  heard  something  about  it,  but  don't  know  the  partic- 
ulars.   How  did  my  man  come  out?" 

"Why,  he  made  a  veritable  dub  out  of  the  Boston  cyclone." 

"You  don't  tell  me." 

When  Monroe  arrived  home  that  night  he  was  the  proudest 
man  in  Montana.  He  was  as  much  elated  as  if  he  was  a  fight 
promoter  who  had  found  a  champion ;  not  that  he  was  in  sym- 
pathy with  such  proceedings,  but  from  the  fact  that  his  young 
friend  had  proved  a  hero,  he  felt  he  was  entitled  to  share  in 
the  glory.  As  he  drove  through  the  gate  leading  to  the  barn, 
George  ran  to  get  hold  of  his  horse.  As  soon  as  he  got  out  of 
the  rig  he  grabbed  the  colored  boy  by  the  ear.  "You  young 
son  of  a  gun !  before  I  went  away  this  morning  why  didn't  you 
tell  me  what  happened  yesterday,  eh  ?"  giving  him  a  shake. 


^52 


SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD 


"I  couldn't,  massa." 

"Why  couldn't  you  ?" 

"Well,  you  see,  massa,  Mr.  Scully  made  us  promise  not  to 
say  a  word  about  it." 

"Did  he?  Well,  I  want  to  know  whose  nigger  you  are — 
mine  or  Scully's?" 

"Yours,  massa," 

"Here  is  a  dollar  for  you,"  and  Monroe  let  him  go,  tapping 
him  good-naturedly  on  the  cheek. 

That  night  at  the  supper  table  there  was  great  reserve  on 
the  part  of  Monroe's  foremen.  Monroe  looked  at  the  men  hard 
from  time  to  time  and  smiled.  The  ladies  of  the  house  had  not 
heard  a  word  of  the  shindie. 

"Papa,  you  seem  to  be  in  very  good  humor  tonight;  you 
surely  must  have  had  a  good  time  when  you  were  away  today." 

Monroe  straightened  himself  up  in  his  chair  and,  looking 
over  at  his  men,  replied  that  he  had  met  a  few  old  cronies  an4 
talked  matters  over  with  them. 

"I  am  glad  to  know  you  enjoyed  yourself,"  replied  his 
daughter.     "Anythmg  special?" 

"No,  just  commonplace,"  shrugging  his  shoulders,  at  the 
sam.e  time  looking  significantly  over  at  Smith,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "I'm  on." 

The  following  morning  when  breakfast  was  over  Miss  Mon- 
roe was  reading  in  the  parlor  when  Miss  Piatt  entered.  "Did 
you  hear  the  news,  Virgie?" 

"No,  what  news?" 

"Why,  there  was  a  terrible  row  over  at  the  gulch  the  day 
before  yesterday,  and  Mr.  Scully  got  into  a  fight." 

"What  ?  Mr.  Scully  got  into  a  fight  over  at  that  place  ?  I'm 
shocked.     I  thought  he  was  a  different  kind  of  a  person." 

"Well,  it's  true.  I  heard  som.e  of  the  men  talking  about  it. 
I  heard  one  of  them  say  it  was  a  fight  to  a  finish.  I  suppose 
they  were  all  drunk." 

"I  didn't  believe  that  Mr.  Scully  drank  anything." 

"I  don't  know  as  to  that,"  answered  Miss  Piatt,  "but  that 
there  was  a  row,  and  I  understand  one  of  the  women  was 
mixed  up  in  it." 


SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD  253 

"I  am  shocked  to  think  of  it." 

"Yes,  and  I  overheard  one  of  them  say  that  Scully  was 
fighting  for  the  woman,  and  that  there  was  nearly  murder." 

"Terrible !  I  thought  him  to  be  so  far  superior  to  the  rest 
of  the  men  we  have  around  here.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  thev  are 
all  alike." 

"O,  no,  not  that  bad ;  you  never  heard  of  Mr.  Randal  visit- 
mg  that  dive." 

"True,  I  never  did.  I  hope  for  your  sake  he  is  an  excep- 
-ion.  I  wonder  if  my  father  knows  anything  about  it?  I 
would  be  ashamed  to  ask  him." 

"Sure,  he  must  know  before  this — all  the  men  are  talking 
about  it." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  The  housekeeper  put  her 
head  in  and  said  that  "Mr.  Scully  had  come  over  with  a  mes- 
sage from  her  father;  would  she  tell  him  to  come  in?" 

"Tell  him  to  leave  the  message  with  you.  I  don't  want  to 
see  him." 

The  housekeeper  hesitated  for  a  moment,  somewhat  sur- 
prised, as  Mr.  Scully,  previous  to  that  time,  had  always  been 
treated  with  marked  respect.- 

"You  had  better  see  him,"  said  Miss  Piatt.  "I  would  pay 
no  attention  to  what  has  happened.    What  is  it  to  you?" 

It  was  more  to  her  than  she  cared  to  tell. 

"I  suppose  you  are  right.    Tell  him  to  come  in." 

"I  must  be  off,"  remarked  Miss  Piatt.  As  she  left  the  room, 
Mike  entered,  hat  in  hand.  Miss  Monroe,  who  assumed  to  be 
reading  at  the  time,  looked  up.  She  scrutinized  him  for  a  mo- 
ment ere  she  spoke,  to  see  if  he  bore  any  marks  of  the  conflict. 

He  stood  erect,  neat  and  clean  as  ever,  his  well-combed  locks 
brushed  back  from  his  forehead.  He  was  not  a  gentleman,  of 
that  she  was  sure  now,  but  he  looked  like  one.  "Well,  sir,  what 
is  it?"  in  a  cool  indifference.     Mike  noticed  the  change. 

"Your  father  sent  me  over  to  tell  you  that  he  was  going  out 
for  a  drive  this  morning,  and  wanted  you  to  be  ready  to  ac- 
company him." 

"You  can  tell  him  I  will  be  ready."  She  recommenced  read- 
ing  her  book. 


254  SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD 

Mike  felt  he  had  been  cut.  Her  manner  to  him  in  the  past 
had  been  genial.  True,  there  was  nothing  but  respectful  fa- 
miliarity between  them.     He  felt  uncomfortable,  however. 

He  turned  and  left  the  room.  He  had  no  sooner  gone  than 
she  felt  sorry  for  snubbing  him  in  the  manner  she  did,  so  she 
laid  down  her  book  and  shed  a  few  tears.  Her  idol  had  fallen 
from  grace,  and  she  was  unhappy. 

When  the  rig  was  ready  to  take  Monroe  and  his  daughter 
out  for  a  drive,  Monroe  lit  a  big  black  cigar  and  seated  him- 
self comfortably  ;  he  was  at  peace  with  all  the  world,  and  felt 
the  enjoyment  of  it.  His  daughter  got  up  beside  him  and  took 
hold  of  the  lines,  it  being  her  custom  to  drive  whenever  her 
father  and  she  went  out  driving  together. 

She  felt  miserable.  She  reasoned  with  herself,  "What  need 
I  care  ?  It's  none  of  my  business  what  Scully  does ;  he  is  noth- 
ing to  m.e."  Much  as  she  tried  to  forget  the  episode,  the  words 
of  Miss  Piatt.  "He  was  fighting  for  a  woman,"  would  come  to 
her  mind,  "and  such  a  woman!"  she  would  think  to  herself. 
Try  as  she  would,  Miss  Piatt's  saying  would  not  down;  she 
could  not  banish  it  from  her  mind. 

During  the  afternoon  they  visited  the  tomb  of  her  mother; 
both  father  and  dai^ghter  knelt  in  prayer.  They  arranged  the 
drooping  flowers  and  noted  several  repairs  that  were  neces- 
sary, so  that  they  might  give  the  man  whose  duty  it  was  to 
take  care  of  all  within  the  sacred  enclosure  the  necessary  in- 
structions. Monroe  noticed  that  his  daughter  was  somewhat 
depressed,  but  attributed  it  to  the  visit  to  her  mother's  grave. 

He  never  thought  for  a  moment  to  allude  to  the  fracas  at 
the  "Cowboys'  Rest."  Pie  had  ever  tried  to  picture  to  his 
daughter  everything  that  was  good  and  bright  and  virtuous. 

They  drove  to  the  town  of  .     "We  will  go  shopping, 

Virgie."  he  said.  Her  father  was  extra  generous  in  inducing 
her  to  purchase  what  she  might  desire.  "I  feel  very  happy 
today,  and  as  Christmas  will  soon  be  here,  I  want  you  to  buy 
some  presents  for  yourself  and  any  acquaintances  you  may 
have  out  in  this  wilderness.  Probably  you  would  like  to  re- 
member some  of  your  friends  in  the  Convent;  don't  stint  your- 
self, my  girl,  you  know  we  have  plenty." 


SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD  255 

"By  the  bye,  I  will  have  to  get  a  present  for  Mike ;  he  is  a 
fine  fellow.  I  wonder  what  will  be  suitable?"  His  remarks 
struck  her  to  the  heart.  "He  was  fighting  for  a  woman"  would 
revert  to  her  mind. 

She  m.ade  no  suggestion  to  her  father's  inquiry,  "What  do 
you  think?" 

"I  have  no  opinion,  papa,  whatever  you  think." 

"There  will  likely  be  some  good  shooting  this  winter.  I'll 
buy  him  a  shot-gim :  he  is  worthy  of  it."  His  daughter  was 
silent. 

After  Miss  Monroe  had  made  her  purchases  they  drove 
borne,  her  father  contented,  happy  and  proud  beside  his  daugh- 
ter, in  whom  he  saw  the  reflex  of  her  departed  mother. 

Virgie  slept  little  that  night.  There  was  a  ghost  in  the 
house:  it  was  the  first  she  had  ever  encountered  during  her 
whole  sweet  life.  Her  mother  had  died  when  she  was  quite 
young,  before  she  had  a  full  appreciation  of  the  loss.  She 
tried  to  banish  from  her  mind  the  pitiful  words,  "He  was 
fighting  for  a  woman."    At  last  she  fell  asleep. 

She  awoke  in  fright.  She  had  dreamt  she  saw  Scully  and 
a  giant  of  colossal  proportions  in  a  death  struggle,  the  giant 
had  Scully  by  the  throat — she  saw  him  in  his  agony  of  death, 
his  tongue  protruding.  A  woman  stood  by,  laughing  at  his 
look  of  abject  despair.  She  awoke,  cold  drops  of  sweat  were 
on  her  forehead;  she  tried  to  sleep  once  more.  She  fell  into 
a  slumber  and  dreamt  she  was  down  deep  in  a  noisome  cav- 
ern, the  air  was  foul,  the  stench  oppressive ;  she  knew  not 
which  way  to  turn  to  escape;  she  thought  she  saw  crawling 
things  over  her  head  and  vermin  running  around  her  feet ;  she 
tried  to  scream,  but  her  tongue  refused  to  act.  She  felt  she 
was  lost,  and  was  about  to  fall  down  into  a  pit  still  deeper, 
when  a  voice  rang  out  clear  and  distinct  the  words,  "He  was 
fighting  for  a  woman." 

She  awoke  in  terror,  sat  up  and  looked  around,  to  see  if  it 
was  a  reality.  She  lay  back  in  her  bed,  determined  to  keep 
awake;  she  dare  not  attempt  to  sleep  more  that  night. 

During  the  morning  she  attended  to  her  routine  work  as 
usual,  gave  the  necessary  instructions  to  the  housekeeper  and 


256  SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD 

attended  to  her  father's  wants;  she  always  acted  as  his  private 
secretary. 

"My  dear,  yon  don't  look  very  well  this  morning,"  said  her 
father.     "I  hope  you  are  not  sick?" 

"No,  only  a  bad  headache.     I  did  not  sleep  well  last  night." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  that.  Perhaps  you  had  better  lie  down 
this  afternoon,  or  maybe  you  had  better  go  out  riding;  a 
scamper  over  the  mountains  might  do  you  good.  I  am  sorry 
I  cannot  go  with  vou,  as  I  have  some  business  that  I  must  at- 
tend to.  If  you  don't  care  to  go  alone,  I'll  send  one  of  the 
men  with  you.  Mike's  a  splendid  horseman — I'll  get  Randal 
to  release  him  for  the  day." 

"No,  thank  you,  papa,  I'll  stay  at  home ;  I'll  be  better  after 
awhile." 

"Well,  my  child,  have  your  own  way,  but  remember  if  you're 
not  better  by  evening.  Doc  Gibbs  will  be  sent  for.  Good-bye," 
as  he  kissed  her  on  the  forehead  and  left. 

He  had  no  sooner  gone  than  she  resolved  to  hear  the  facts 
from  an  eye-witness.  She'd  know  the  truth,  if  it  broke  her 
heart.  She  had  been  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  colored  boy- 
had  been  with  Smith  and  Scully  the  afternoon  of  the  trouble 
— she  would  hear  his  version  of  it.  She  sent  for  him.  When 
he  arrived  she  was  seated  on  the  piano  stool. 

"George,  you  were  out  the  day  before  yesterday  with  Mr. 
Smith  and  Mr.  Scully,  weren't  you?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"I  understand  on  the  way  back  you  stopped  at  the  saloon  in 
the  gulch  ^" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Now,  tell  me  what  happened  there.  I  hear  there  was  a 
row  ^" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  but  Alaster  Scully  told  us  to  say  nothing 
about  it." 

"Yes.  but,  George,  every  one  knows  about  it  now,  so  it's  no 
secret,  and  I  want  you  to  tell  me  the  particulars." 

"Well,  you  see,  it  was  dis  way:  When  Massa  Scully  and 
Massa  Smit  came  up  to  de  saloon,  just  as  we  came  in  front  of 
it,  de  free  of  us.  Massa  Smit  sais,  'Mike,  we'll  get  off  here  for 


SCULLY  IN-  BAD  AND  GOOD  257 

a  few  minutes.'  Massa  Scully  sais,  'No,  I  would  rather  not.' 
'O,  come  on,  we'll  only  stay  for  a  couple  of  minutes.'  Massa 
Scully  sais,  'Well,  I'll  wait  for  you  here,'  den  Massa  Smit  sais, 
'Come  on,  maybe  some  of  our  fellows  is  in  and  I  want  to  see 
what  shape  dey're  in."  I  tell  de  truth,  ma'am,  I  was  feared 
Massa  Scully  would  say  no,  as  I  wanted  to  go  in  and  see  de 
fun.  Den  Massa  Scully  followed  Massa  Smit  in.  I  hitched 
de  horses  and  go  in,  too.  De  house  was  full.  Massa  Smit,  he 
talk  to  many  people.  Massa  Scully  stand  back ;  I  go  look  at 
de  faro  table. 

"You  know  dat  Bronson  dat  owns  de  mines?" 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  of  him." 

'Well,  you  see,  he  was  playing,  betting  lots  of  money.  By 
golly,  I  neber  seed  such  betting! 

"Massa  Scully,  he  still  stand  back.  Before  you  have  time 
to  tink,  big  row  started.  Bronson  sais  dey  are  cheating  him, 
de  man  wid  de  cards  he  called  him — you  don't  want  me  to  tell 
vou  what  he  called  him — somefing  frightful.  Den  Bronson 
called  him  somefing  worse.  I  thought  there  would  be  some 
gun  business,  so  I  ducked  behind  Massa  Scully,  den  dey  called 
one  anudder  some  more.  I  feels  sure,  some  one  killed ;  some 
people  hold  Bronson.  My!  but  wasn't  he  mad.  Just  den  de 
lioss  behind  de  bar  shout  someting  and  yells  for  Bingo.  You 
^ee.  missie.  Bingo's  de  bouncer,  dis  big  (the  colored  boy  ex- 
tended his  arms  to  show  Bingo's  proportions).  Den  Bingo 
conies  running  in  from  de  dance  place,  and  pushing  everybody 
:iside,  he  nocks  Massa  Scullv  nearly  ober  on  top  of  me. 

"Massa  Smit  pulls  Massa  Scully  back,  den  de  row  begins 
fierce.  Bingo  cusses  Bronson  and  calls  him  names,  Bronson 
talks  back,  den  Bingo  gets  real  mad:  he  grabs  Bronson  by  the 
throat  and  commences  to  choke  him.  Bronson,  he  hangs  on 
to  de  table  for  dear  life.  Bingo  he  gets  madder  and  strikes 
Bronson  about  de  head  and  face.  I  looks  up  at  Massa  Scully, 
and  I  see  he  was  getting  mad,  too.  He  neber  sed  noting,  how- 
eber,  as  Massa  Smit  was  kind  of  standing  in  front  ob  him. 

"Just  den  a  girl,  a  little  bit  of  a  ting  about  so  high  (holding 
his  hands  up  to  his  chin),  she  comes  running  out  of  de  dance 
place  and  trows  her  arms  about  Bronson's  neck,  begs  Bingo 


258  SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD 

not  to  hurt  him.  Dis  makes  Bingo  madder  den  eber ;  he  shubs 
her  aside,  she  falls  on  de  floor,  den  Bingo  gives  Bronson  a 
great  pull,  choking  him  at  de  same  time,  so  dat  Bronson  had 
to  let  go  of  de  table :  den  de  girl  gets  up  agin  and  asks  Bingo 
to  let  him  go.  Bingo  shubs  her  aside  and  throws  Bronson 
head-first  right  down  in  de  road.  I  sprized  he  wasn't  killed. 
Den  de  girl  want  to  go  help  Bronson.  Bingo  shubs  her  in  and 
trows  her  on  de  floor.  I  was  looking  at  Massa  Scully.  I  seed 
he  get  very  red  in  de  face  and  just  den  Bingo  raises  his  foot 
to  kick  her. 

"Massa  .Scully  sais,  'Don't  do  dat;  don't  kick  dat  gal.' 
Bingo  turned  on  Massa  Scully  right  away,  calls  him  names, 
say  Monroe's  tenderfoot,  and  much  worse.  Massa  Scully 
again  sais.  'Don't  ill-use  dat  girl.'  You  see,  she  was  lying  on 
de  floor,  'fraid  to  get  up ;  den  Bingo  turned  on  Massa  Scully 
as  if  he  was  going  to  eat  him  up,  without  eider  salt  or  pepper." 

As  the  colored  boy  went  on  with  his  narrative,  Virgie  got 
intensely  interested.     "Go  on,"  she  cried. 

"Massa  Scully  kep  quite  cool,  but,  by  jingo,  you  could  see 
he  was  mad. 

"Bingo  abused  him  some  more,  and  told  him  'If  it's  fight  you 
mean,  I  gives  you  all  you  want.' 

"Massa  Smit  and  two  or  tree  more  tried  to  persuade  Massa 
Scully,  but  no  use ;  Massa  Scully  sed  he  was  going  outside.  I 
thought  he'd  be  killed  sure.  Bingo  follered  him,  den  dey  went 
out  on  de  prairie.  Some  of  de  people  said  it  was  a  shame,  dat 
de  voung  fellow  wud  be  killed  sure. 

".Smit  and  some  more  begged  Massa  Scully  to  back  down, 
but  no  use,  missie." 

The  colored  boy  paused  for  breath.  "Go  on,  George,"  said 
Virgie,  now  thoroughly  enthused,  "what  happened  then?'* 

"Why,  you  see,  Massa  Scully,  he  took  off  his  handkerchief 
and  his  shirt,  den  he  gives  his  pants  a  hitch  and  fastens  his 
belt.  I  was  trembling  for  sure.  Den  Bingo,  he  takes  off.  his 
shirt  and  pants,  missie,  and  ties  a  handkerchief  around  his 
drawers.  Massa  Scully  turns  to  Massa  Smit  and  sais,  'All  I 
want  you  to  do  is  to  keep  the  crowd  back  and  see  dat  I  gets 
fair  piay.'    A  few  of  de  men  dat  felt  sure  dat  Bingo  would  kill 


SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD  259 

him,  sed  dey  would,  sure.  Den  Bingo,  he  sits  on  man's  knee, 
and  grins  at  Massa  Scully  and  tells  Smit  to  send  to  old  Mon- 
roe's to  cart  away  what'd  be  left  of  Massa  Scully. 

"Massa  Scully  neber  sais  a  word,  den  he  begins  to  fight. 
Massa  Scully  stands  just  like  dis" — the  boy  .  tried  to  show 
Mike's  pose  and  stepped  around  the  parlor,  as  if  sparring. 

Virgie  jumped  from  the  piano  stool  to  closer  observe  the 
boy's  movements,  now  thoroughly  excited.  "Go  on,  George, 
with  your  .story."' 

"Den  Bingo  comes  just  like  dis.  I  held  my  bref;  he  runs 
at  Massa  Scully,  I  tink  it  all  off,  I  shut  my  eyes.  I  opes  dem 
jus^  in  time  to  see  Massa  Scully  hit  Bingo  right  on  de  nose, 
right  dere,  missie :  dat  was  wid  his  left,  and  den  wid  his  right 
he  hits  Bingo  a  wallop  on  de  ear,  makes  him  go  hopping  round 
de  ring.  I  'sure  you,  I  begin  to  get  courage.  Den  dey  jumps 
round  for  a  time  and  Bingo  ketches  Massa  Scully,  den  dey 
wrestle ;  Bingo  too  big  for  Massa  Scully,  dey  both  fall.  Bingo 
on  top ;  den  de  saloon  boss,  he  takes  Bingo  on  one  side  and 
scrubs  his  face  and  rubs  his  breast  where  de  blood  was." 

"Well,  had  Mr.  Scully  no  friends?" 

"Whv,  bless  your  heart,  lots  of  'em,. but  Massa  Scully  want 
no  friends;  he  just  sit  down  on  de  grass  and  look  at  Bingo; 
den,  when  Bingo  ready,  dey  start  fight  again. 

"Hah !  Hah !  Hah !  By  golly,  missie,  if  you'd  seen  dat 
nose  you  would  hab  died.  Den  dey  sparred  round;  Bingo 
looked  fiercer  den  eber. 

"Massa  Scully  like  ice.  De  saloon  boss  shout  'Rush  him. 
Bingo,'  and  Bingo  done  as  de  saloon  boss  tell  him,  but  Massa 
Scully  see  him  coming  and  just  step  aside,  just  like  dis,  and 
hits  Bingo  a  wallop  right  ober  de  left  eye;  you'd  a  thought  it 
was  a  razor  he  cut  him  wid ;  den  he  sparred  some  more,  Massa 
Scully  waiting  for  Bingo.  Bingo  he  ran  in  and  hugs  Massa 
Scully  like  a  bear,  den  dey  wrestle,  and  as  sure  as  I  tell  you. 
missie,  Massa  Scully  trows  Bingo  flat  on  his  back  and  rolls 
ober  him !  I  wish  you  could  have  heard  de  shouts  our  side 
set  up — you  talk  about  a  war  dance  by  de  Injuns,  it  was  nutting 
like  it." 

"Then  the  fight  was  over,  I  suppose?" 


260  SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD 

"Not  on  your  life,  missie ;  Massa  Scully  get  up  and  walk  to 
our  side,  de  saloon  boss  and  some  of  his  friends  pick  up  Ringo 
and  carry  him  ober  to  dere  side,  dey  washed  him  and  scrubbed 
him,  he  was  a  sight ;  dey  rubbed  him  all  ober.  I  heard  de  sa- 
loon boss  try  to  cheer  Bingo  up.  Bingo  tried  to  grin,"  the  boy 
laughed  heartily  at  the  idea. 

"I  brings  a  chair  out  and  Massa  Scully  sits  on  it,  waiting 
till  dey  had  Bingo  fixed  up. 

"Den  dey  starts  to  fight  again ,  dis  was  round  tree.  De  sa- 
loon boss  shouted  to  Bingo  to  'Go  in  and  finish  him,'  meaning 
Massa  Scully. 

"Massa  Scully,  he  dance  round  a  little,  just  like  dis.  I  sees 
he  looks  wicious ;  he  goes  close  to  Bingo ;  I  holds  my  bref ; 
Bingo  hits  at  Massa  Scully,  he  puts  his  head  back  and  Ringo 
don't  touch  him ;  den  Massa  Scully  goes  right  up  to  Bingo. 
My !  Massa  Scully  looked  bad  den ;  I  neber  seed  him  look  like 
dat  before.  He  shuts  his  teet'  tight  and  gibs  Ringo  a  poke 
right  in  de  stumic,  and  steps  back  to  give  Bingo  time  to  get 
his  bref.  den  he  comes  forward  to  Bingo  agin  and  makes  be- 
lieve to  hit  Bingo  in  de  stumic  again  wid  his  left.  Bingo  puts 
in  his  stumic  quick,  just  like  dis,  and  puts  his  great  big  head 
forward  like  dis ;  just  as  he  does,  Missie  Monroe,  afore  you 
could  tink,  Massa  Scully  hits  him  right  on  de  chin,  a  little  on 
dis  side,  and  Bingo  lies  flat  on  de  ground. 

"De  saloon  boss  and  his  friends  tries  to  wake  him  up,  but 
he  is  sound  asleep ;  de  box  is  ober,  de  'Boston  cyclone,'  as  dey 
call  him,  is  as  stiff  as  a  dead  coon.  Eberybody's  wid  Massa 
Scully  den.  Dey  shout  and  want  to  shake  hands  wid  him,  and 
tap  him  on  de  Jaack.  All  he  says  is,  'George,  where's  my 
shirt?'" 

"Well,  George,  what  happened  then?  I  suppose  you  were 
crazv,  too?" 

"By  gollv,  missie,  I  was  neber  so  happy  in  my  life.  De  sa- 
loon-keeper, he  invites  Massa  Scully  and  eberybody  in;  he 
tells  Massa  Scully  ncting's  too  good  for  him ;  ,Massa  Scully, 
he  sez  all  he  want's  a  pail  of  water  to  wash.  I  run  for  water, 
and  he  washed  Bineo's  blood  from  his  neck  and  breast — you 
see,  missie,  when  Bingo  hug  him  he  gets  dat — den  he  puts  on 


SCULLY  IN  BAD  AND  GOOD  261 

his  shirt  and  tie  his  handkercief  round  his  neck.  Saloon-keeper 
ask  him  what  he  take,  Massa  Scully  say,  'Nuffin,  tank  you.' 
De  saloon  boss  says,  'I  hope  no  hard  feelings.'  Massa  Scully 
says,  'No,  not  at  all,'  and  smiles ;  dat's  de  only  smile  he  gives 
de  whole  time." 

"Where  was  the  woman  all  this  time,  George?" 

"Dey  were  all  tickeled  to  deth;  dey  stood  looking  out  of  de 
window  of  de  dance  place.  Ebery  one  of  dem  would  hab  left 
dere  happy  home  for  Massa  Scully,  but  he  neber  looked  where 
dey  was." 

"Well,  that  was  ungallant  of  him ;  don't  you  think  it  was, 
George  ?" 

"Naw,  he  wouldn't  look  at  dat  dirty  white  trash." 

This  remark  brought  a  tear  to  Virgie's  eye. 

It  was  the  climax  of  her  hopes ;  in  the  innermost  recesses  of 
her  heart  there  was  a  bright  ray  of  hope — her  faith  had  been 
restored. 

"Den  we  all  started  for  home.  Massa  Scully  makes  us  all 
promise  dat  we'd  neber  gib  it  away,  'say  nutting  about  it.' 
Don't  you  tink  we  done  right,  Missie  Virgie?" 

"Well,  if  you  all  gave  your  promise.-  you  were  in  duty  bound 
to  keep  it." 

The  door  leading  to  the  parlor,  where  the  description  of  the 
fight  had  been  given,  was  pushed  open,  and  Mr.  Monroe  en- 
tered, laughing;  he  turned  to  his  daughter,  whose  face  was 
flushed  with  excitement,  and  said,  "Come,  Virgie,  what  do  you 
think  of  that  for  a  scrap?  I  think  that  George  would  make  a 
good  reporter  for  a  sporting  paper.  Run  away,  boy,  I'll  see 
that  Mr.  Randal  takes  good  care  of  you  in  the  future."  Turn- 
ing to  his  daughter,  "While  I  don't  in  any  way  encourage 
fighting  of  any  kind,  I  think  Mr.  Scully  proved  himself  a  man. 
and  was  justified  in  everything  he  did.  I  feel  prouder  of  him 
than  ever.  He  resented  the  insult  when  that  big  brute  called 
him  'Old  Monroe's  tenderfoot,'  and  going  to  the  defense  of  the 
girl,  bad  and  all  as  she  might  be,  was  an  act  worthy  of  a 
knight  of  old.  such  as  we  read  about." 

Miss  Monroe  was  supremely  happy  to  hear  her  father  speak 
so  highly  of  the  man  she  had  treated  with  such  scant  courtesy 


262  FLORENCE  IN    A  BAD  LIGHT 

the  day  before,  and  resolved  in  her  mind  to  make  amends  at 
the  earliest  opportunity. 

That  nig-ht  her  dreams,  if  she  had  any,  were  of  a  different 
character  than  those  of  the  night  before. 


Chapter  XXIX 

FLORENCE   IN   A   BAD  LIGHT. 

Herman  Wosta  had  not  missed  his  niece  until  the  word  had 
been  passed  amongst  the  crowd  that  it  was  time  the  picnickers 
were  leaving  the  ground.  It  was  then  dusk;  the  people  were 
hurrying  to  get  seats  in  the  train.  He  sought  her,  but  he  had 
little  anxiety,  as  he  thought  she  had  probably  started  earlier, 
and  that  he  had  missed  her  amongst  the  groups,  who  were  hur- 
rying toward  the  siding  where  the  train  stood.  Reaching  the 
train,  he  secured  a  seat  for  the  German  girl  whose  acquaint- 
ance he  had  made,  and  then  commenced  a  tour  of  the  different 
cars.  He  scanned  the  faces  as  he  went  along,  but  no  sight  of 
Florence  could  be  seen. 

He  inquired  of  many  if  they  had  seen  her,  but  none  could 
give  a  favorable  reply.  He  became  anxious,  and  after  he  had 
reached  the  limit  of  his  search  he  stepped  off  the  train  to  look 
if  he  could  see  her  coming.  The  whistle  of  the  engine  gave 
three  loud  blasts.  "All  aboard,"  shouted  the  conductor. 
"Come,  young  man,  if  you're  going  to  Chicago,  get  on." 

Herman  was  in  doubt  what  he  should  do;  the  train  began 
to  move.  "She  must  be  aboard,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he 
grabbed  the  iron  rail  on  the  last  car  and  swung  on  to  the  step. 
He  immediately  commenced  another  tour  of  the  cars,  but  no 
Florence  could  be  found.  He  located  Mort,  Bert,  Phipps, 
Rock  and  Margy,  who  was  sitting  on  the  latter's  lap  with  her 
arm  around  his  neck.    None  of  them  had  seen  her. 

"Where  is  that  other  young  gentleman  that  was  with  you  ?" 
he  inquired.    None  of  them  knew. 


FLORENCE  IN  A  BAD  LIGHT  263 

"I  suppose  he  is  somewhere  on  the  train,"  replied  Rock. 
Mort,  Bert  and  Phipps  looked  through  the  window.  Margy 
assumed  to  take  no  notice. 

Wosta  began  to  reproach  himself  for  not  staying  behind. 
He  sought  the  conductor  and  told  him  of  his  niece  not  being 
on  the  train.  '"What  can  I  do?"  he  inquired.  "I  don't  see  as 
you  can  do  anything.  We  don't  stop  till  we  get  to  Chicago, 
and  if  I  did  stop  to  let  you  off,  you  more  than  likely  couldn't 
find  your  way  back  to  the  picnic  grounds." 

With  a  sad  heart,  he  returned  to  where  he  had  left  his  Ger- 
man acquaintance  and  sat  down. 

When  the  train  pulled  into  the  depot  he  jumped  out  in 
hopes  that  he  was  still  mistaken,  that  he  would  see  her  on  the 
platform.  He  waited  until  the  last  of  the  passengers  had  left 
the  train,  but  no  Florence.  "How  am  I  going  to  break  the 
news  to  her  mother,  my  sister?"  he  said  to  himself.  The  first 
saloon  he  came  to  he  went  in,  and  before  he  left  had  drank 
two  glasses  of  whisky.  He  jumped  up;  a  sudden  thought 
struck  him.    "I  will  go  back  to  the  depot  and  make  inquiries." 

"Twelve  twenty-seven  in  the  morning,"  replied  the  man  at 
the  window. 

"Is  there  any  train  going  out  there  tonight?" 

"No,  sir.    First  train  leaves  here  ten  thirty  in  the  morning." 

Herman  felt  as  if  he  wished  himself  dead ;  he  silently  turned 
around.  "I  must  go  tell  them,"  he  thought  to  himself;  "but 
what  can  I  say?" 

On  arriving  at  the  Burdett  cottage,  he  stood  for  a  few  min- 
utes, irresolute  as  to  what  he  should  do  or  say;  he  peeped  in 
through  a  crevice  between  the  blind  and  the  sash.  He  could 
see  his  sister  in  the  dining-room ;  the  table  was  set ;  he  knew 
she  was  waiting  their  coming,  and  had  prepared  a  meal  for 
them.  He  saw  her  turn  towards  the  window;  he  jerked  his  face 
away,  though  there  was  no  possibility  of  her  seeing  him. 

At  last  he  entered. 

His  sister,  hearing  his  footstep,  came  to  the  door  leading  to 
the  dining-room  to  greet  them.  He  went  in  and  before  inquiry 
could  be  made  told  of  the  mishap ;  Florence  had  been  left  be- 
hind. 


264  FLORENCE   IN    A   BAD  LIGHT 

"Oh,  Herman!  Herman!  How  could  you  do  it?  My  child 
lost,  perhaps  nuirdered !  Why  didn't  you  stay  and  seek  her?" 
she  cried  in  her  frenzy. 

Herman  could  make  no  excuse;  he  held  his  head  down  like 
a  culprit. 

"Maybe  she'll  come  on  the  next  train,"  her  mother  cried. 

"There's  no  train  until  morning,"  he  moaned,  "nor  is  there 
any  going  out  tonight ;  if  there  had  been  I  would  have  gone 
back." 

"What  will  I  do?    What  will  I  do?"  she  wailed. 

"I  will  go  and  see  Mr,  Long;  perhaps  he  will  be  able  to  help 
us."  She  snatched  up  her  shawl  and  ran  out,  he  following 
her. 

Reaching  Long's,  she  told  them  her  trouble.  Mrs.  Long 
gave  a  fierce  look  at  Herman.  "This  is  a  nice  how-do-you- 
do,"  she  said. 

"Console  yourself,  Mrs.  Burdett,"  said  Long;  "more  than 
likely  she'll  turn  up  all  right  in  the  morning.  Of  course,  I 
don't  like  the  look  of  it,  but  I  don't  see  what  we  can  do.  You 
say  there's  no  train  coming  in  from  that  direction  tonight?" 
addressing  Herman. 

"No,  sir;  I  made  every  inquiry." 

"Nor  none  going  out?" 

"No,  sir." 

Mrs-  Burdett  could  not  suppress  her  grief.  "I'll  go  over 
and  see  what  father  says,"  rising  to  leave. 

"You  go  with  her,  Bridget,"  said  Long,  addressing  his  wife. 
Mrs.  Long  began  preparation  to  accompany  the  sorrowing 
woman.  "If  I  don't  come  back  tonight,  you'll  know  where  I 
am,"  said  Mrs.  Long  on  leaving. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wosta  were  very  angry,  when  they  heard  of 
the  trouble,  Herman  was  soundly  berated  by  his  mother.  He 
had  no  reply  to  make  to  any  of  her  censure. 

"Console  yourself,  my  child,"  remarked  the  old  man,  "you 
seem  born  to  trouble ;  but  perhaps  there  is  little  harm  done. 
She  more  than  likely  found  lodgings  in  some  of  the  houses  out 
there,  when  she  saw  she  missed  the  train." 

"Who  was  she  with?"  inquired  Mrs.  Long, 


FLORENCE  IN   A  BAD  LIGHT  265 

"We  were  all  together  most  of  the  time  enjoying  ourselves. 
There  was  a  race  tor  young  women,  and  she  won.  A  young 
gentleman  who  was  in  the  company  bet  fifty  dollars  on  her." 

■'What  was  his  name?" 

"A  Mr.  Hart." 

"Didn't  he  see  her  before  the  train  left?" 

"I  didn't  see  him  ;  he  was  not  on  the  train."  Mrs.  Long's 
brow  lowered. 

"Who  was  he?"  inquired  his  sister. 

"Florence  introduced  him  to  me,  she  knew  him,  said  he 
worked  in  the  store." 

"Well,  there's  nothing  to  do  but  wait,"  remarked  the  old 
man. 

That  was  an  anxious  night  at  the  Wosta's  as  well  as  at  the 
home  of  Widow  Burdett.  Mrs.  Long  stayed  with  her.  A 
little  after  eight  in  the  morning  a  messenger  boy  arrived  with 
a  telegram,  which,  as  our  readers  know,  put  Herman  in  a  bad 
light.  Mrs.  Long  out  of  respect  for  her  friend,  who  was  now 
more  angry  than  grieved,  didn't  give  vent  to  her  feelings. 

Herman  arrived  shortly  after  the  telegram,  his  sister  treated 
him  very  curtly,  Mrs.  Long  didn't  deign  to  notice  him, 

"Any  news'"'  he  inquired.  His  sister  handed  him  the  tele- 
gram. 

"So  she  lavs  the  blame  on  me,"  he  said,  clenching  his  teeth, 
"Well,  I'll  have  it  out  with  her  as  soon  as  I  see  her,  and  if  that 
fellow  Hart's  on  the  train,  when  I  meet  him  L'll  want  him  to 
explain  something."  With  this  he  went  put,  pulling  the  door 
behind  him  with  a  bang  that  shook  the  cottage. 


When  Florence  awoke  and  saw  her  position,  she  jumped 
from  the  bed  she  had  slept  in. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  inquired  Hart. 

"Home ;  to  catch  the  train." 

"What's  your  hurry?   It  don't  go  until  after  eleven  o'clock." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  proceeded  to  dress ;  he  got  up  and 
tried  to  detain  her. 


266  FLORENCE  IN   A  BAD  LIGHT 

"Don't  lay  a  finger  on  me ;  if  you  do,  I'll  scream  for  help," 
backing  away  from  him.  Being  partly  dressed,  she  gathered 
up  the  remainder  of  her  clothes  and  sought  the  bath-room, 
fastening  the  door.  Hot,  scalding  tears  fell  from  her  eyes. 
She  felt  she  had  been  outraged,  trapped.  A  spirit  of  resent- 
ment animated  her,  her  head  ached,  she  remembered  the  wine 
she  drank.  "What  excuse  can  I  offer,"  she  thought,  "I  am 
ruined.  Can  I  ever  look  my  mother  in  the  face  again?  I 
should  have  known  better,"  she  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes 
with  the  towel,  washed  and  put  on  the  remainder  of  her 
clothing. 

Hart  was  waiting  for  her  in  the  office. 

"I  have  ordered  breakfast,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

"I  don't  want  any  breakfast,"  she  replied,  going  towards 
the  door.  He  followed  her.  Arriving  at  the  depot  there  was 
still  over  an  hour's  wait  for  the  train.  He  sat  beside  her,  tried 
to  enter  into  conversation,  she  was  silent,  making  no  reply  to 
any  of  his  remarks. 

When  the  window  was  open  for  the  sale  of  tickets  he  went 
and  bought  two  for  Chicago.  On  the  arrival  of  the  train,  she 
went  and  took  her  seat.  He  sat  beside  her,  again  trying  to 
induce  her  to  talk. 

"What  are  you  fussing  about?"  he  said,  "it  will  be  all  right. 
I  sent  a  telegram  to  your  old  woman  that  you  missed  the  train, 
and  that  you  were  going  to  stop  at  a  farm  house.  None  of  them 
will  be  any  the  wiser.  Didn't  I  tell  you  I'll  do  the  right  thing 
by  you?" 

"You  did ;  but  I  don't  believe  you." 

He  laughed.  She  turned  from  him  and  looked  through  the 
window.  He  tried  to  keep  up  a  conversation,  she  made  no 
reply.    As  the  train  entered  the  suburbs  of  Chicago  he  rose. 

"I'm  going  to  get  off  at  the  next  station,  I  hope  to  see  you 
when  you've  got  over  your  tantrums." 

"Remember  your  promise,"  was  her  reply. 

He  laughed  as  he  took  off  his  hat  on  leaving. 

Arriving  at  Chicago  she  found  her  uncle  waiting  for  her. 

"So  you've  got  here?" 

"Yes,  don't  vou  see  I'm  here?" 


FLORENCE  IN   A  BAD  LIGHT  267 

"How  did  you  come  to  miss  the  train?"  he  inquired,  show- 
ing some  temper. 

"I  don't  know,  I  strolled  away  too  far,  and  didn't  think  the 
train  would  leave  so  early." 

"Who  was  with  you?"  grasping  her  by  the  arm. 

"No  one." 

"Where  is  that  fellow  Hart?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Well,  he  didn't  come  on  the  train  last  night?" 

"How  was  I  to  know?     I  wasn't  on  the  train." 

"Well,  I  expected  him  on  this  train — and  if  he  was  I  would 
have  had  him  explain  something." 

"You'll  have  to  see  himself  about  that." 

"Why  did  you  lay  the  blame  on  me  for  your  missing  the 
train  ?" 

"I  didn't  lay  the  blame  on  you." 

"Yes,  you  did." 

"Well,  if  I  did;  you  see  the  people  are  looking  at  us.  I'm 
going  home." 

As  Florence  entered  the  cottage  her  mother  met  her  at  the 
door,  and  folding  her  in  her  arms  wept  tears  of  joy,  as  she 
asked  her  how  she  came  to  miss  the  train.  "Oh,  Florence,  you 
don't  know  how  unhappy  we  have  all  been,  we  thought  some- 
thing terrible  had  happened  you." 

"Mama,  best  of  mamas,  I  am  sorry  that  I  made  you  so  un- 
happy." She  began  to  cry,  the  tears  of  mother  and  daughter 
mingled  as  they  embraced. 

Mrs.  Long  was  a  silent,  thoughtful  witness. 

Herman  stalked  sullenly  into  the  kitchen. 

"What  time  did  you  send  the  telegram?" 

"It  was  after  eight,  mama." 

"I  want  to  know,"  shouted  Herman,  "why  you  blamed  me 
in  it?    Read  it,"  he  shouted,  placing  the  message  in  her  hand. 

She  looked  at  it.  she  was  short  of  an  answer,  her  face  be- 
came scarlet. 

"Don't  be  cruel  to  her,  Herman,"  was  his  sister's  appeal, 
"probably  she  was  so  excited  at  the  time  she  didn't  know  what 
she  was  writing." 


268  FLORENCE  IN  A  BAD  LIGHT 

"I  want  to  know  from  herself,"  shouted  Herman,  this 
dialogue  between  Mrs.  Burdett  and  her  brother  gave  Florence 
time  to  frame  an  answer. 

"The  man  in  the  depot  wrote  it.  I  told  him  I  was  looking 
for  my  uncle." 

Herman,  only  half  satisfied,  left  the  house,  banging  the  door 
after  him  as  he  left. 

"Never  mind  him,"  said  Mrs.  Long,  "he's  mad.  I  was  mad 
myself  last  night,  laying  all  the  blame  on  him,  but  now  since 
she's  home  there's  no  further  use  of  talking  about  it." 

Florence  went  back  to  work  the  following  day.  Some  of 
the  girls  showed  a  coolness ;  Margy  was  extremely  sociable. 
"You  missed  the  train,"  she  said  in  a  whisper.  "Mr.  Hart 
missed  it,  too,"  she  continued,  as  she  grinned  into  Florence's 
face,  which  turned  scarlet. 

Mary  Vann  shook  her  finger  at  her,  "You  must  be  more 
careful,  my  girl.  I  understand  the  young  man  who  was  paying 
so  much  attention  to  you  missed  the  train  also.  You  know, 
Florence,  that  looks  suspicious." 

Every  one  in  the  store  seemed  to  know  it.  Florence  resolved 
to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  them  all. 

When  she  received  the  order  for  the  twenty-five  dollars' 
worth  of  merchandise  she  had  won,  she  turned  it  over  to  her 
mother,  who  asked  her  what  she  would  buy  her  with  it.  "Not 
a  thing,  mother;  it's  all  for  you." 

Miss  Vann,  who  had  promised  her  a  prize,  told  her  she  was 
going  to  give  her  something  of  the  value  of  five  dollars,  "What 
will  you  choose,  Flo?  You  know  I  told  Shapiro  you  had  to 
get  wholesale  prices,  and  I'll  see  that  you  get  it." 

"No,  Miss  Vann,  I  can't  take  anything  from  you,  you  have 
been  too  good  to  me  already." 

"Yes,  but  you  must.     I  insist." 

"I  don't  want  anything." 

"Come,  girlie,  what  ails  you  ?"  Florence's  lips  quivered,  she 
made  no  reply.  "I  am  afraid  there  is  something  wrong  with 
that  girl,"  Miss  Vann  said  to  herself. 

Next  day  she  gave  Florence  an  order  for  five  dollars'  worth. 
"Take  that  home  to  your  mother,"  was  her  instructions. 


FLORENCE   IN   A  BAD  LIGHT  269 

It  was  two  weeks  before  Hart  accosted  her,  one  evening 
while  she  was  leaving  the  store. 

"Well,  have  you  got  over  your  huff?" 

"Why  do  you  want  to  stop  me?" 

"O,  I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

"Then  tell  me." 

"I  can't  tell  you  here,  come  where  we  can  sit  down." 

"No,  I  won't  sit  down." 

"O,  you  won't,  won't  you?" 

"No,  sir ;  if  you  have  anything  to  tell  me,  you  can  talk  to  me 
here."  He  looked  across  the  street,  a  policeman  was  standing 
on  the  opposite  corner.  "Then  if  you  don't  want  to  talk  to  me, 
I'll  bid  you  good  night,  but  remember,"  in  a  threatening  tone, 
"I'll  see  you  later."  He  walked  away,  she  pursued  her  journey 
home. 

Mary  Vann  was  a  woman  of  experience,  she  had  gone 
through  the  mill.  .She  noticed  the  change  in  her  protege.  The 
girl  was  subdued,  she  felt  like  asking  her  her  troubles.  "A 
love  affair,  I  suppose,"  said  Mary  to  herself. 

One  morning  while  Florence  was  on  her  way  to  work.  Hart 
accosted  her.  "I'm  going  to  wait  for  you  tonight,"  he  said, 
"and  I'm  going  to  have  a  plain  heart  to  heart  talk  with  you." 
He  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  her  without  another  word. 

Miss  Vann  noticed  her  very  nervous  condition  when  she 
came  in,  but  said  nothing  to  her. 

Hart  stopped  her  that  evening  shortly  after  she  left  the  store. 
He  had  been  drinking,  "What  I  want  to  see  you  about,"  he 
said  abruptly,  "is  that  I'm  going  to  a  dance  on  Saturday  night, 
and  you're  going  with  me." 

"No,  I'm  not.  I  won't  go  to  any  more  dances  or  anywhere 
else  with  you,  until  you  fulfill  your  promise  to  me." 

"What  a  hurry  you're  in.    I've  told  you  I'd  treat  you  right." 

"Yes,  vou  told  me,  and  at  first  I  believed  you,  but  now  I 
don't." 

"Well,  you'll  go,  won't  you?" 

"No,  I  cannot." 

"If  you  don't  it  will  be  worse  for  you,  and  you're  not  going 
to  have  that  plug  of  a  Dutchman  with  you,  either.    Remember, 


270  FLORENCE   IN   A   BAD  LIGHT 

I'll  be  around  your  house  about  nine  o'clock  waiting  for  you." 

"And  if  I  don't  go" 

"I'll  expose  you.  My  word's  as  good  as  yours,"  she  felt  as 
if  she  would  faint. 

As  the  week  advanced  her  nervousness  became  more  ap- 
parent to  Miss  Vann. 

"You're  positively  sick,  Flo,"  she  said,  on  Saturday  morning, 
"what  ails  you?" 

"I  don't  feel  well,"  the  girl  replied. 

"I  think  vou  had  better  see  a  doctor." 

"I'll  be  better  soon." 

Fear  of  exposure  had  destroyed  her  last  vestige  of  courage. 
She  felt  as  if  she  must  submit.  After  supper  she  remarked  to 
her  mother,  "I'm  going  out  a  little  this  evening." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"I  promised  to  meet  some  friends.     I  won't  stay  long." 

"What  time  are  you  going?" 

"About  nine  o'clock." 

"Why,  that's  too  late  to  go  anywhere." 

"But  that's  the  time  I  promised  to  go." 

Her  mother  looked  at  her  in  blank  amazement. 

It  was  close  upon  nine  o'clock  when  Red  Hart  could  have 
been  seen  standing  near  the  lamp  at  the  corner  of  Thirty-fifth 
and  Halsted  streets.  He  stood  in  the  shadow,  looking  in  the 
direction  Florence  would  have  to  come,  intent  upon  his  pur- 
pose ;  he  had  not  noticed  a  man  coming  around  the  corner. 

"Here !  you're  the  fellow  I've  been  looking  for,"  said  the 
newcomer,  laying  his  hand  upon  Hart's  collar.  "What  is  there 
between  you  and  my  niece  ?" 

"That's  my  business,"  replied  Hart,  assuming  a  belligerent 
attitude. 

"I'll  let  you  know  it's  my  business,  too.  You  were  the  means 
of  her  losing  the  train  coming  from  the  picnic,  and  I  want  to 
find  something  out  about  you." 

"You  do,  do  you?  Well,  you  find  out.  She'll  be  here  in  a 
minute  or  two  and  perhaps  she'll  tell  you." 

"So  you're  waiting  for  her.  are  vou?" 

"Yes,  I  am." 


FLORENCE   IN   A  BAD  LIGHT  271 

"Then  you'll  come  over  to  her  mother's  house  and  ask  her 
leave." 

"I'd  like  to  see  you  make  me !" 

"I'll  darn  soon  make  you ;  come  along."  Herman's  blood  was 
up.  He  was  a  much  more  powerful  man  than  Hart,  he  com- 
menced to  drag  him  along. 

Hart  stood  as  far  from  Herman  as  he  could,  Herman  had 
him  by  the  collar  and  was  pulling  him  along,  when  he  struck 
Wosta  full  in  the  face,  breaking  loose  and  ran  down  Thirty- 
fifth  street,  pursued  by  Herman.  Reaching  the  alley  and  diving 
into  the  darkness  Hart  was  soon  lost  to  sight. 

Herman,  seeing  pursuit  hopeless,  went  towards  the  Burdett 
cottage,  his  nose  bleeding  profusely.  He  met  Florence  just 
coming  out  of  the  door.    He  pushed  her  back. 

"My  God,  what  has  happened  you?"  his  sister  cried  as  she 
sav/  his  condition. 

"A  friend  of  my  lady's,"  looking  at  Florence,  "and  I  have 
had  a  little  mix-up,  but  I'll  get  him,"  looking  at  his  sister,  as 
he  went  towards  the  kitchen.  "You'd  better  keep  her  in.  I'm 
sorry  to  say,  she'll  take  some  watching." 

Widow  Burdett  was  stunned  by  his  .remarks. 

Florence,  dressed  ready  to  go  out,  sat  weeping  bitterly  in  a 
chair. 

"So  you  were  going  to  meet  him?"  said  Herman,  white  with 
rage.  "Well,  you  can  save  yourself  the  trouble.  I've  seen 
him  and  I  just  want  one  more  interview  with  him.  Where 
does  he  hang  out,"  he  shouted,  turning  to  Florence. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  sobbed. 

"Well,  I'll  find  out." 

Mrs.  Burdett  was  shocked,  as  she  was  the  day  her  husband 
was  brought  home  a  corpse,  she  could  find  no  speech.  Her  mind 
reverted  to  the  morning  her  daughter  returned  from  the  dance 
in  such  a  frightful  condition  and  to  her  staying  away  the  night 
of  the  picnic.  She  knew  now  that  something  was  wrong,  her 
daughter  had  deceived  her — how  far?    She  shuddered  to  think. 

On  the  following  Monday  evening  about  seven  o'clock.  Hart 
and  his  associates  met  at  Hooligan's.  Hart  was  telling  them 
of  the  scrap  he  had  with  the  Dutchman. 


272  FLORENCE  IN   A  BAD  LIGHT 

"Did  you  soak  him  good?"  inquired  Rock. 

"I  just  gave  him  one  punch,"  answered  Hart,  "but  he'll  not 
forget  it  for  some  time.  What  I  should  have  done,  was  to  plug 
him." 

"That's  what  you  should,"  said  Rock  emphatically. 

"What  was  it  all  about?"  inquired  Mort. 

"You  know  that  blond,  that  girl  that  won  the  race  at  the 
picnic,  the  one  I  kept  out  that  night  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  had  a  date  with  her,  and  was  waiting  on  the  corner 
when  the  Dutchman  came  along  and  began  to  ask  me  what  I 
was  doing  there,  and  who  I  was  and  a  whole  lot  of  other  dope. 
I  told  him  to  mind  his  own  business.  He  said,  'I  am  minding 
my  ov/n  business,'  or  something  like  that,  and  grabbed  me  by 
the  collar." 

"How  are  you,  boys,"  said  Hooligan,  coming  in  to  go  on 
watch  behind  the  bar. 

"Go  on  with  your  story,"  said  Rock,  not  heeding  the  inter- 
ruption. 

"Well,  as  I  was  saying,"  continued  Hart,  "he  wanted  me  to 
go  over  and  see  her  rnother.  I  objected ;  he  started  to  drag  me, 
so  I  let  him  have  one,  and  seeing  the  jig  was  up,  broke  away 
and  ran  down  an  alley,  he  after  me." 

"That's  the  time  you  should  have  done  for  him,"  said  Rock, 
showing  his  dissatisfaction  at  Hart's  methods. 

Two  policemen  came  in  at  this  time,  and  beckoning  Hooli- 
gan to  come  to  the  far  end  of  the  bar,  whispered  something 
to  him,  and  went  straight  out  by  the  side  entrance. 

Hooligan  went  over  to  where  the  men  were  sitting  around 
the  table.  "I've  just  got  the  tip  there's  a  warrant  for  you, 
Hart,  somebody  by  the  name  of  Wosta  swore  it  out  against 
you,  and  two  of  the  Central  men  are  looking  for  you." 

The  five  men  jumped  to  their  feet. 

"What  do  you  think  I  should  do,  Henry?"  inquired  Hart, 
looking  at  Mort.  "If  that  other  affair  of  mine  had  only  been 
settled  I  wouldn't  have  cared." 

"I  should  advise  you  to  keep  out  of  the  way  for  a  time,"  was 
Mort's  advice. 


FLORENCE  IN    A   BAD  LIGHT  273 

"Did  they  tell  yon  what  the  charges  was.  Hooligan?"  in- 
quired Phipps. 

"No ;  they  didn't  know." 

"It's  most  likely  for  the  slugging,"  suggested  Hart. 

"May  be ;  may  be  worse,"  said  Rock,  grinning  over  at  Hart. 

"You'd  better  get  out,  anyway,"  said  Mort,  "until  we  have 
time  to  fix  it." 

"I  think  so,"  suggested  Hooligan,  "I  wouldn't  like  you  to 
be  arrested  here,  it  might  give  the  house  a  bad  name." 

"Hear  him,"  said  Rock,  looking  fiercely  at  Hooligan. 

"I'll  skip,  anyhow  ;  I'll  let  Rock  know  where  I  am." 

"Give  us  the  cards,  Hooligan,"  said  Mort ;  "likely  some  one 
will  be  dropping  in  to  look  for  our  departed  friend."  They 
had  only  been  playing  a  few  minutes  when  two  men  entered 
the  saloon  simultaneously.  One  came  in  by  the  front  and  the 
other  by  the  ladies'  entrance.  They  each  gave  casual  glances 
at  those  in  the  saloon,  and  then  went  up  to  the  bar. 

"Give  me  a  small  beer." 

"What  will  you  take?" 

"I'll  take  a  beer,  too." 

Hooligan  served  them.  The  man  who  ordered  the  drinks 
placed  a  ten-cent  piece  on  the  counter.  Hooligan  shoved  it 
back  toward  him. 

"Take  pay  for  the  drinks,"  said  the  man,  pushing  the  ten- 
cent  piece  back  toward  Hooligan.  He  then  turned  his  back  to 
the  bar  and  looked  over  to  where  the  card  game  was  going  on, 
as  if  interested. 

The  two  policemen,  who  had  been  in  previously,  entered. 
They  both  nodded  to  the  two  strangers,  one  of  whom  went 
toward  them  and  began  a  conversation.  "I  was  just  saying," 
remarked  the  policeman,  "that  I  hadn't  seen  Red  around  here 
for  a  couple  of  weeks." 

"No,  I  guess  he  must  be  out  of  the  city,"  replied  Hooligan, 
at  the  same  time  going  to  the  other  end  of  the  bar  to  serve  a 
couple  of  customers  who  had  come  in. 

"Hello,  Squinty,"  said  one  of  the  newcomers,  noticing  him 
for  the  first  time,    "tlow's  things?" 

"Pretty  good." 


274  VIRGIE  MONROE  MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY 

"What  are  you  doing  now?" 

"Tending  bar  for  Tiooligan.'" 

"Nothing  else?"  said  his  questioner,  smiling. 

"Not  a  thing." 

"Come,  let  us  be  going,"  said  the  man  who  had  paid  for  the 
two  beers.  "You've  a  pretty  select  trade  here,  I  see,  Mr. 
Hooligan,"  at  the  same  time  looking  in  the  direction  of  the 
card  table. 

Hooligan  was  lost  for  an  answer. 

"I  wonder  what  he  meant  by  that?",  said  Hooligan,  after 
they  were  out  of  hearing. 

"He  means  that  you  keep  a  pretty  tough  joint,"  said  Mort, 
laughing. 

"He'd  better  be  careful  that  I  don't  get  his  star,"  replied 
Hooligan,  boastfully. 

"You  will,  like  hell,"  replied  Mort.  "That's  Sergeant  Mc- 
Carthy ;  you  had  better  treat  him  civilly  when  he  comes  around, 
or  the  Workingman's  Headquarters  might  have  a  lock-out." 

"I  did  try  to  treat  him  civil ;  I  shoved  his  ten  cents  back  to 
him  when  he  went  to  pay  for  the  drinks,  and  he  wouldn't  ac- 
cept it." 

"That's  the  kind  of  man  he  is,"  said  Bert ;  "you  can't  bribe 
him  with  a  few  cheap  drinks." 

"But  hadn't  Hart  a  close  call?"  said  Phipps, 

"That  reminds  me,"  remarked  Hooligan,  "I'll  have  to  see 
the  alderman  about  that  in  the  morning." 


Chapter  XXX 

VIRGIE   MONROE   MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY 

Virgie  Monroe,  the  day  after  her  interview  with  the  colored 
boy,  determined  to  make  amends  to  Scully ;  how  to  do  it  was  a 
problem.  She  couldn't  send  for  him  and  tell  him  of  her  sor- 
row for  the  mistake  she  had  made ;  her  pride  wouldn't  permit 
her  to  make  too  abject  an  apology,  for  she  felt  she  was  in  a 


VIRCIE  MONROE  MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY  275 

measure  not  to  blame  in  slighting  him ;  as  the  impression  she 
had  formed  of  him  through  the  version  of  the  story  she  had 
heard  justified  it. 

Her  first  idea  was  to  inform  her  father  of  the  facts  of  the 
case  and  let  him  explain  the  matter;  she  soon  banished  that 
plan,  knowing  her  father  would  laugh,  and  wind  up  by  say- 
ing, "I'll  see  Mike,  it's  all  right." 

"No,  I'll  see  him  myself  and  tell  him  I  was  out  of  humor 
when  he  called ;  if  he  is  reasonable,  I  may  tell  him  the  cause." 

From  Miss  Monroe's  window  a  full  view  of  the  valley  could 
be  seen.  She  could  see  in  the  distance  the  herds  of  cattle  and 
the  cowboys  tending  them.  She  knew  Alike  was  somewhere 
near  them,  she  could  observe  a  number  of  their  horses  teth- 
ered, the  men  in  many  instances  lying  round  smoking  and 
chatting.  She  looked  carefully  and  thought  she  could  rec- 
ognize Hercules.  She  surmised  that  Scully  was  close  by.  She 
prepared  her  toilet  with  special  care.  "Probably  he  will  come 
over  to  eat  at  noon ;  if  he  is  alone  I  will  meet  him  as  if  by 
chance,"  she  soliloquized. 

She  gave  orders  to  saddle  Juno,  as  she  would  probably  take 
a  ride  before  dinner. 

It  was  approaching  midday  as  she  looked  intently  from  her 
window.  She  saw  one  of  the  men  get  up  from  the  grass  where 
he  had  been  sitting  with  others  and  go  towards  Hercules.  She 
knew  that  must  be  Scully,  she  saw  him  unloose  the  lariat  by 
which  the  horse  was  fastened,  fold  it  carefully  and  attach  it 
to  the  hook  on  the  saddle;  she  saw  him  tap  his  horse  on  the 
neck,  stroke  down  his  forelock  and  could  see  the  animal  put  his 
nose  in  the  man's  face  as  if  to  kiss  him ;  she  saw  him  place  his 
foot  in  the  stirrup  and  vault  into  the  saddle. 

She  ran  downstairs  to  where  Juno  was  fastened,  waiting  her 
I)leasure,  mounted  and  rode  in  the  direction  she  knew  Scully 
woiild  come.  As  they  came  in  plain  view  of  one  another  she 
assumed  an  air  of  indifference,  hardly  looking  in  the  direction 
of  the  man  she  had  set  out  to  meet,  but  when  within  proper 
distance  Scullv  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  his  head,  as  he  had 
often  done  before  in  passing. 

Virgie  hoped  he  would  speak  first,  if  only  to  bid  her  good 


276  VIRGIE  MONROK  MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY 

morning.  When  quite  close  she  saw  he  was  going  to  pass 
without  even  this  formality. 

She  reined  in  her  horse,  bringing  Juno  to  a  stand.  Scully 
seeing  her  intent,  gently  restrained  Hercules,  who,  straining 
his  neck,  put  his  nose  towards  Juno's,  who  snapped  at  him. 
"Your  horse  is  not  very  sociable  this  morning,  Miss  Monroe," 
he  said,  smiling. 

"No,  Air.  Scully,  and  I  am  afraid  I  was  not  very  sociable 
with  you  the  other  morning.     I  have  no  doubt  you  noticed  it." 

"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Miss  Monroe,  I  did  think  you 
a  little  cool ;  I.  however,  attributed  it  to  some  little  irritation 
on  your  part,  probably  something  had  annoyed  you." 

"You  surmised  right  then,  something  had  annoyed  me." 

"Well,  so  long  as  I  was  not  to  blame,  it's  all  right." 

"Yes,  but  I  thought  you  were  to  blame ;  in  fact,  you  were 
the  innocent  cause  of  it  all." 

"Indeed !  Why,  that's  news  to  me,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her. 
"How  could  I  cause  you  the  annoyance?" 

Her  face  began  to  color.  "You  see,  I  heard  of  the  row  in 
that  horrid  place,  and  I  received  the  information  in  such  man- 
ner as  to  put  you  in  a  bad  light ;  so  I  was  angry." 

Mike  looked  steadily  at  her.  She  bowed  her  head  under 
his  gaze  while  a  thrill  ran  through  Mike's  frame ;  he  felt  she 
was  interested  in  him.  "Well,  Miss  Monroe,  if  I  am  again 
returned  to  your  good  graces,  I  am  happy.  Your  father  is 
the  only  substantial  friend  I  ever  had  in  life,  so  you  can  easily 
understand  the  pain  it  would  give  me  to  lose  the  respect  of  his 
daughter." 

She  turned  her  horse  in  the  direction  Mike  was  going;  both 
the  animals  were  impatient.  Mike  checked  Hercules — ^the 
moments  were  too  pleasant  to  permit  their  hasty  passing. 

"I  know  all  about  it,"  she  said,  smiling  at  him. 

"And  you  think  I  wasn't  much  to  blame?" 

"I  know  you  were  not  to  blame,  but  I  don't  want  you  to  go 
near  that  place  again." 

"No  fear;  but  let  us  forget  it." 

"Then  you  forgive  me  for  my  want  of  courtesy  to  you  the 
other  morning?" 


VIRGIE  MONROE  MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY  277 

"I  never  harbored  any  resentment  toward  you,  Miss  Monroe. 
I  think  too  much  of  you."  She  looked  into  his  face,  he  return- 
ing her  glance.  They  had  reached  the  men's  quarters,  Mike 
was  about  to  dismount. 

"It's  ungallant  of  you,"  she  said  archly,  "not  to  see  me  all 
the  way."  In  his  eagerness  he  shook  the  bridle  reins,  causing 
his  horse  to  start  forward.  Mike  checked  him  and  they  con- 
tinued toward  the  house  together.  Reaching  the  front  of  the 
homestead,  Mike  jumped  ofif  and  assisted  Miss  Monroe  to 
alight;  as  she  went  up  the  steps  leading  to  the  veranda  she 
turned  and  smiled  at  him,  he  lifted  his  hat. 

George  came  forward  and  took  hold  of  Juno,  "Been  out  for 
a  ride  wid  Miss  Monroe?"  he  said  to  Scully,  grinning. 

"No,  I  just  met  her  on  the  way  to  the  house." 

"Best  gal  in  de  nation." 

"Do  you  think  so,  George?" 

"Yes,  sah." 

Mike  thought  he  was  about  right. 

One  day  the  following  week  Mr.  Monroe  and  his  daughter 
were  taking  a  walk  in  the  direction  of  the  bunk  houses.  They 
went  over  to  where  Mike  was  standing,  and  as  they  approached 
Mike  lifted  his  hat.    "How  are  you  this  evening,  Scully?" 

"Fairly  well,  sir." 

"You  seem  to  me  to  be  getting  stout?" 

"Well,  that's  so ;  I  have  gained  ten  pounds  since  I  have  been 
out  here." 

"Yes,  my  boy,  that's  the  climate." 

"I  was  attributing  it  to  the  bill  of  fare,"  said  Mike,  laugh- 
ing. 

"I  suppose  being  out  so  much  in  the  open  air  gives  you  an 
appetite,  Mr.  Scully,"  remarked  Virgie. 

"Yes,  I  think  that  has  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it." 

Just  then  a  young,  tough-looking  fellow  rode  up.  "Are  you 
Mr.  Scully?" 

"Yes."  ■ 

"I've  a  letter  for  you."  Mike  wondered  who  would  send 
him  a  letter,  and  was  about  to  put  it  in  his  pocket  to  read  after 
Monroe  and  his  daughter  left. 


278  VIRGIE  MONROE  MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY 

"I  guess  he  wants  an  answer  right  away,"  said  the  mes- 
senger. 

Mike  looked  at  the  letter,  there  was  no  stamp  on  it.  He 
opened  it  and  commenced  to  read ;  a  dark  scowl  came  over 
his  face.     He  looked  at  the  young  fellow  who  had  brought  it. 

''Is  there  an  answer?"  inquired  the  man. 

"No!"  shouted  Mike,  "tell  him  there's  no  answer." 

It  was  plain  to  Monroe  and  his  daughter  that  whatever  was 
in  the  letter  was  very  displeasing  to  Scully.  "Isn't  that  one 
of  Murry's  fellows?"  inquired  Monroe. 

"Yes,  sir ;  it  seems  so ;  I  never  saw  him  before." 

Mike  held  the  letter  in  his  hand,  and  seemed  to  be  thinking. 

"I  suppose  that's  a  challenge,  Mike,"  said  Monroe.  Virgie 
gave  a  start  at  the  suggestion,  Scully  noticed  her. 

He  was  thinking  whether  he  would  tear  up  the  missive  or 
not.  A  thought  struck  him — probably  Virgie  would  think  the 
letter  was  either  of  a  suggestive,  or  compromising  character. 
He  didn't  care  as  to  what  her  father  thought,  but  he  could  see 
plainly  her  womanly  curiosity  was  aroused. 

He  placed  the  letter  in  Monroe's  hand. 

"I  can't  read  in  this  light  without  my  glasses.  Virgie,  yo« 
read  it." 

"I'd  rather  she  wouldn't." 

"Why,  there's  no  secret,  nor  anything  immoral  in  it,  is 
there  ?" 

"No." 

"Then  read  it  for  me,  girl." 

She  proceeded  to  read : 

"Mike  Scully,  Sir : — Ise  wish  to  tell  you  ise  a  place  open  as 
i  knows  wud  sute  u  and  as  u  says  u  av  no  feelings  after  the 
little  troubles  use  had  wid  bingo  de  boston  ciklone  ise  glad  to 
ofTer  yuse  de  first  shans.  Bingo  after  he  got  out  of  bed  after  de 
trouncing  u  gives  him  pitched  up  de  job  i  trise  to  swade  him 
but  no  use  he  says  he  cant  sta  in  any  place  were  dere  is  a  man 
he  cant  trash  so  quits,  I  offers  you  de  possish  at  twicet  de 
salery  u  gets  from  old  monroe  i  knose  you'l  like  de  job  all  de 
girls  is  stuck  on  you,  yuse  can  have  pick  and  choice  besides  there 


VIRGIE  MONROK   MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY  279 

will  be  a  little  money  on  de  side  send  word  wid  pete  dat  brings 
dis  note  or  come  over  and  see  ur  friend. 

Jack  Murry/' 

As  Virgie  read  the  letter  her  face  became  scarlet.  At  its 
conclusion  she  looked  hard  at  Mike ;  whose  face  protrayed 
intense  wrath. 

"I  see  you  are  in  demand  in  this  part  of  the  country,  Scully," 
said  Monroe,  smiling,  though  it  was  apparent  he,  too,  was 
angry. 

"It's  just  as  well  he  didn't  bring  the  letter  himself,"  re- 
marked Scully. 

"He's  a  pretty  tough  citizen,"  said  Monroe,  "I  suppose  you 
are  going  to  answer  his  letter?" 

"No,  sir." 

"I  would  answer,"  said  Miss  Monroe,  emphatically,  "and 
I  would  give  him  a  piece  of  my  mind." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  you  would  have  him  accept  the  job," 
winking  at  Scully. 

Virgie  was  silent. 

"Look  at  the  splendid  opening  it  is  .for  him,"  said  Monroe, 
continuing ;  "twice  the  salary  your  father's  giving  him,  and  all 
the  girls  stuck  on  him — you  know  that  counts  for  something." 

Miss  Monroe's  face  lit  up  again,  "It's  a  disgrace  to  allow 
such  a  place  to  exist,  father,  and  you  and  the  rest  of  the  decent 
men  in  this  community  should  combine  to  put  him  out." 

"That's  easier  said  than  done,  girl.  Murry's  quite  a  factor 
in  this  county."  Scully  tore  the  letter  into  pieces  and  threw 
it  away. 

"Well,"  remarked  Monroe,  "I  suppose  the  ignorant  black- 
guard thought  he  was  paying  you  a  very  high  compliment." 

"I  suppose  so." 

"Let  us  be  going,"  said  Virgie.  "Good  evening,  Mr.  Scully." 

As  the  girl  and  her  father  left  she  turned  around,  and  gave 
Mike  a  look  of  approval.  She  was,  however,  too  angry  to 
smile. 

A  couple  of  days  after  the  above  interview,  Mr.  Bronson 
called  at  Monroe's.     He  was  well  known  to  all  the  people  at 


280  VIRGIE  MONROE   MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY 

the  hovise  as  a  wealthy  young  miner,  with  more  money  than 
sense ;  an  inveterate  gambler,  and  one  who  sometimes  went  on 
a  "tear."  Many  of  the  young  ladies,  in  spite  of  his  well  known 
failings,  looked  upon  him  as  a  catch,  although,  the  country 
being  sparsely  populated  and  having  so  large  a  percentage  of 
men  over  women,  husbands  were  easy  to  get,  but  they  were  a 
rough  lot,  nearly  all  having  the  same  failing  as  young  Bron- 
son,  without  his  advantages.  He  was  educated  and  could  act 
the  gentleman  in  good  society.  He  was  ushered  into  the  little 
office,  where  Monroe  was  seated,  his  daughter  and  he  looking 
over  some  contracts. 

Miss  Monroe  bowed  coldly  to  him  as  she  rose  to  leave  when 
he  entered. 

"Hello,  Bronson.  I'm  glad  to  see  you're  up  and  around 
again," 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Monroe.  I  just  came  over  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  a  Mr.  Scully  you  have  here.  I  feel  under  an 
obligation  to  him,  though  I  know  it  was  not  on  my  account, 
but  as  he  pounded  the  fellow  that  abused  me  I  feel  a  kind  of 
friendship  for  him." 

"Well.  I  don't  know  just  at  present  where  he  is,  but  I'll  send 
and  find  out." 

"I  am  sorry  to  see  that  Miss  Monroe  is  not  very  friendly 
with  me." 

"No,  I  guess  she's  not,"  smiling  at  him.  "Some  one  must 
have  been  telling  her  about  some  of  your  doings." 

"I  suppose  so,"  remarked  Bronson,  "but  I've  given  them  up 
now,  I'm  through." 

"You  won't  try  to  buck  the  tiger  any  more?" 

"Not  for  some  time.     I've  been  nearly  dead." 

"Ah,  a  sick-bed  repentance,"  said  Monroe,  laughing. 

"I  mean  it,  and  I'm  going  to  stick." 

"Wait  a  moment  and  I'll  send  George  over  to  find  Scully." 

It  took  George  some  time  to  find  Scully,  who  was  out  on 
the  plains. 

Monroe  and  Bronson  talked  over  conditions  in  the  district, 
and  matters  of  business.  The  Full  Hand  mine  which  Bronson 
owned  was  putting  out  a  large  quantity  of  good  paying  ore. 


VIRGIE  MONROE   MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCL  LLV  281 

"See,  then,  that  you  attend  to  it,"  was  Monroe's  advice,  as 
he  saw  George  and  Scully  coming  towards  the  house.  ''Don't 
say  too  much  about  that  trouble  you  had  at  Murry's.  Mr, 
Scully  don't  care  to  talk  about  it." 

"Why,  that's  just  what  I  came  over  here  to  see  him  about." 

"Well,  then,  draw  it  mild." 

As  Scully  came  tn  at  the  front  door,  Miss  Monroe  met  him, 
"Good  morning,  Mr.  Scully,"  extending  her  hand. 

"Good  morning.  Miss  Monroe."  He  g'ently  pressed  her 
hand  as  he  held  it  for  a  little  longer  than  was  necessary. 

"I  see  you  didn't  take  that  position  yet?"  she  said,  smiling. 

He  laughed,  "No,  not  yet."  He  increased  the  pressure  on 
her  hand — he  thought  he  could  feel  a  tightening  of  her  own 
on  his  great  palm,  ere  he  let  go. 

"Come  in,  Mike,  there's  a  gentleman  here  who  wants  to 
make  your  acquaintance ;  Mr.  Bronson,  Mr.  Scully." 

They  shook  hands. 

"I  suppose  you  remember  me,  Mr.  Scully?" 

"Yes,  I've  seen  you  before." 

"Well,  I  came  over  to  make  your  acquaintance  and  to  thank 
you  for  the  favor,  unintentional  on  your  part,  but  a  service  that 
gave  me  great  satisfaction  anyway."  ' 

"Don't  mention  it,"  replied  Scully,  smiling  at  him. 

"I  know  from  what  I  have  heard  that  it  was  hardly  on  my 
account,  but  you  saw  how  that  great  big  beast  abused  me,  and 
perhaps  that  had  something  to  do  with  your  actions. 

"Well,  I  didn't  like  to  see  him  treat  you  as  he  did,  but  it 
was  his  brutality  to  the  girl  that  made  me  mad." 

"Why,  don't  you  know,"  said  Monroe,  "he  has  got  an  offer 
of  Bingo's  job!" 

Bronson  looked  at  Mike  for  a  moment,  not  knowing  what 
to  say.  At  length  he  said,  "I  hope  he  is  not  going  to  leave  you, 
Mr.  Monroe?" 

"Well,  you  see,"  replied  Monroe,  "Black  Jack  Murry  has  of- 
fered him  a  large  increase  in  salary  and  some  special  attrac- 
tions entirely  outside  my  powers  to  confer."  Monroe  winked 
at  Scully  as  he  made  this  statement. 

"Well,  if  he's  going  to  leave  you  on  account  of  a  monetary 


282  VIRGIE  MONROE  MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY 

consideration,  1  don't  care  what  Jack  offers  him,  I'll  do  the 
same  and  some  better." 

"What !  raise  the  ante  ?  It  looks  to  me  as  if  you  and  Murry 
are  trying  to  bull  the  labor  market." 

''I  mean  what  I  say,"  replied  Bronson  warmly.  "All  Mr. 
Scully  has  to  do,  if  he  wants  a  change,  is  to  come  over  to  the 
office  of  the  Full  Hand  and  hang  up  his  hat." 

Scully,  who  enjoyed  this  repartee,  thanked  Mr.  Bronson  for 
his  kind  offer,  but  guessed  he  would  stay  where  he  was  for 
some  time.  "The  job  I  have  suits  me  and  I  have  more  money 
than  I  have  any  use  for.  I  never  was  much  of  a  custodian  for 
T.oney  anyhow,  and  now  what  I  have,"  continued  Mike,  "I 
haven't  any  opportunity  to  spend." 

"Bronson  could  show  you  a  way,"  said  Monroe,  laughing; 
"but,  Bronson,  it's  time  you  and  I  had  a  drink  ?" 

"No.  thank  you;  I've  quit  drinking." 

"What!"  said  Monroe,  rising,  "you  quit?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  the  old  scripture  saying,  'While  yet  the  light  holds 
out  to  burn  the  vilest  sinner  may  return.'  I'm  going  to  ask 
you  to  stay  and  have  dinner  with  us,  anyway." 

"I  don't  think  the  mistress  of  the  house  cares  for  my  com- 
pany," said  Bronson,  grinning.  "Perhaps  you  had  better  con- 
sult her  before  you  ask  me." 

"O  I'll  square  you  with  her.  I'll  tell  her  you've  reformed. 
Mike,  go  tell  Miss  Monroe  I  want  to  see  her." 

Whatever  Mike  said  to  her  we  don't  know,  but  she  came  in 
smiling. 

"You  know  Mr.  Bronson?" 

"Yes,  papa,  I  have  heard  of  the  gentleman." 

"Well,  I  want  you  to  shake  hands  with  him.  He  has  joined 
the  temperance  ranks  with  our  friend  Scully,  and  has  promised 
to  quit  playing  poker,  so  he  is  O.  K.  from  your  standard." 

Bronson  looked  very  sheepish  but  extended  his  hand  to 
Miss  Monroe,  who  said  she  was  pleased  to  hear  such  a  good 
report  of  him. 

Scully  wanted  to  bid  them  good  morning,  saying  he  had  to 
go  back. 


A  Modern  Gladiator 


VIRGIE   MONROK   MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY  283 

"You'll  Stay  and  have  dinner  with  us,  Mike?" 

"No,  thank  you." 

"O  yes,  you  will.  I'll  see  the  timekeeper  about  you  and  if 
he  kicks  I'll  try  and  use  my  influence  with  him,"  remarked 
Monroe,  laughing. 

Mike  hesitated  and  looked  at  Virgie.  He  read  her  mind  in 
her  glance,  and  stayed.  Dinner  over,  Monroe  took  Bronson 
out  to  show  him  the  stock,  Scully  and  Miss  Monroe  going  with 
them.  A  long  passage  divided  the  stockade  where  the  most 
valuable  cattle  were  kept.  It  was  about  six  feet  wide  and  on 
each  side  was  a  rough  fence  built  of  split  saplings,  about  six 
feet  high. 

Mr.  Monroe  and  his  party  were  about  midway  up  the 
passage  when  they  heard  a  voice  yelling,  "Look  out,  head 
him  off!"  They  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  voice  and  saw 
a  magnificent  young  bull  coming  tearing  along.  The  voice 
yelled  again,  "Look  out !"  Bronson,  seeing  the  danger,  took 
to  his  heels  in  an  effort  to  get  out  of  the  passage  before  the 
bull  could  reach  them.  Mike  ran  in  front  of  Miss  Monroe 
just  in  time  to  see  her  climb  the  fence  like  an  acrobat ;  Monroe 
flattened  himself  against  the  rails.  Scully  ran  in  front  of  the 
bull  and  began  waving  his  arms  and  shouting.  The  bull,  see- 
ing him,  lowered  his  head  for  a  charge,  determined  to  sweep 
all  opposition  aside.  Mike  grabbed  the  animal  by  the  horns. 
"Let  him  go,"  shouted  Monroe ;  "let  him  go !"  Scully  held 
on;  the  beast  pushed  Scully  before  him,  using  every  effort 
to  get  loose.  When  they  reached  the  open  the  animal  increased 
its  fury,  and  Monroe  shouted  to  Scully,  "Let  him  go!"  Miss 
Monroe  jumped  off  the  fence  and  came  down  to  get  a  better 
view  of  the  struggle.  The  beast  shook  his  head  in  the  most 
frantic  manner,  then  raised  it,  lifting  Mike  off  his  feet.  Mike's 
agility  was  displayed  in  getting  back  on  his  feet  again.  The 
bull  stood  still,  for  a  moment,  to  eye  his  tormenter,  Mike  tried 
to  turn  him  back  to  the  corral,  while  the  animal,^  now  wild  with 
passion,  renewed  his  eft'orts  to  shake  Scully  off.  It  was  a 
struggle  between  mind  and  matter.  Monroe,  in  spite  of  his 
persistent  shouting  to  Scully  to  let  him  go,  could  but  admire 
the  superb  grit,  strength  and  agility  of  his  protege.     "That 


284  VIRGIE  MONROE  MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY 

man  knows  no  fear,"  he  said  to  Bronson,  who  was  now  keep- 
ing well  in  the  background. 

Miss  [Monroe's  feelings  were  between  admiration  and  fear 
for  the  gladiator.  The  fight  was  continued  for  some  minutes ; 
at  last  it  was  seen  that  the  bull  was  in  doubt ;  Mike  gradually 
worked  him  back  towards  the  passage,  and  upon  reaching  it 
Prince  Mon,  for  he  it  was,  made  a  last  final  efifort,  and  failing, 
gave  up  the  fight,  looking  as  if  in  wonder  at  his  adversary. 
Mike,  getting  him  in  between  the  posts,  let  go  of  his  horns, 
giving  him  a  slap  on  the  flank,  yelling  at  him  at  the  same  time. 
The  bull  began  to  retrace  his  steps,  but  after  going  some  thirty 
feet  up  the  passage-way  he  turned  again.  Mike  shouted  and 
waved  his  hands,  the  beast  turned  leisurely  and  trotted  back 
to  where  Shanks  was  standing  beside  the  open  gate  by  which 
he  had  escaped.  He  trotted  in.  Shanks  shut  the  gate  on  him, 
whereupon  the  bull  came  toward  the  fence  and  let  out  a  final 
roar  of  defiance,  conquered,  but  not  subdued. 

"Look  here,  young  fellow,"  said  Monroe,  turning  to  Scully, 
"if  you  want  to  commit  suicide  I'd  like  you  to  find  a  more  easy 
method,  and  one  where  we  haven't  to  be  spectators."  Mike 
laughed. 

Miss  Monroe  was  enthusiastic.  "You  should  go  to  Spain, 
Mr.  Scully,  where  they  do  such  things." 

"Yes,  or  to  Mexico,"  remarked  Bronson,  "I  never  got  such 
a  fright  in  my  life." 

Monroe  had  lots  of  experiences,  but  he  never  witnessed 
such  an  exhibition  in  his  life  before. 

"I'm  going  back  to  the  house  to  take  a  drink.  You  two  can 
show  Mr.  Bronson  around."  While  Monroe  was  taking  the 
drink  he  gave  Mrs.  Thompson  a  description  of  the  battle,  and 

wound  up  by  telling  her  that  Scully  was  a  d d  fool.     Mrs. 

Thompson  didn't  agree  with  him ;  she  thought  Scully  was  per- 
fect in  every  way. 

"I  was  pleased  to  see  him  run  in  front  of  Virgie,  when  we 
saw  the  bull  coming,  that  w^as  all  right;  but  why  didn't  he  let 
it  go?"  looking  at  Mrs.  Thompson,  who  inquired.  "What  did 
Bronson  do?" 

"Why,  he  took  to  his  heels,"  said  Monroe,  bursting  into  a 


VIRGIE  MONROE   MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY  285 

fit  of  laughter.  "He  never  stopped  till  he  got  'round  to  one  of 
the  houses ;  he  surely  thought  he  was  done  for." 

As  time  advanced  it  was  no  uncommon  sight  to  see  Scully 
and  Miss  Monroe  out  riding  together,  he  mounted  on  Hercules, 
now  over  sixteen  hands  high,  she  on  Juno,  the  most  beautiful 
horse  in  all  Montana. 

Miss  Monroe  had  a  habit  of  dropping  on  Scully  accident- 
ally (on  purpose).  The  cowboys  whom  they  happened  to 
come  across  would  doff  their  hats  to  the  pair ;  none  of  them 
ever  felt  jealous  of  IVIike,  he  was  a  good  fellow  with  all  of 
them.    "Never  puts  on  any  airs,"  as  Jerry  Smith  said,  one  day. 

Monroe,  sitting  out  on  the  veranda  sometimes  when  they 
rode  up,  would  say,  "Where  did  you  find  Mike?"  as  he  would 
see  Scully  jump  off  his  horse  to  assist  Miss  Monroe  in  alight- 
ing— not  that  it  was  necessary,  as  she  could  get  on  and  ofif 
about  as  easy  as  she  could  get  on  or  off  her  piano  stool. 

"I  met  him  over  at  Pine  Ridge,"  or  "at  the  Gulch,"  she 
would  say,  quite  unconcerned.  Such  meetings  were  in  no  way 
objectionable  to  Monroe.  He  wanted  his  daughter,  when  she 
did  choose  a  mate,  to  select  a  man.  He  was  rich  enough  to 
give  her  a  dowry  sufficient  to  tempt'  a  German  count  or  an 
English  earl,  but  he  never  dreamt  of  such  a  thing;  in  fact,  it 
was  a  wonder  to  him  how  an  American  girl  could  throw  her- 
self away  on  a  titled  profligate  or  diseased  imbecile,  as  many 
of  them  were  doing.  He  preferred  good,  healthy  vigor  as 
against  fancy  stock ;  he  had  only  known  Mike  for  a  little  over 
a  year,  but  he  knew  he  was  a  man ;  and  he  believed  a  very 
decent  one,  at  that. 

Miss  Piatt,  who  had  chaperoned  Miss  Monroe  from  the  time 
she  was  a  child  and  who  had  been  her  constant  companion 
when  she  was  not  at  school,  began  to  think  that  Virgie  Monroe 
would  not  miss  her  so  much  now  as  she  would  have  done 
formerly;  and  began  to  listen  with  more  attention  to  Randal's 
appeal.  At  last  it  was  decided,  and  Monroe  congratulated 
them.  Miss  Monroe  was  especially  pleased,  particularly  so 
when  she  found  out  that  Randal  had  an  option  on  a  small 
ranch  just  a  mile  or  so  from  their  place. 

"Don't  be  short  of  anything.     If  you  want  any  money  you 


286  VIRGIE  MONROi:  MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY 

know  where  to  get  it,"  was  Monroe's  admonition  to  Randal. 

Miss  Monroe  had  told  Miss  Piatt  the  same  thing,  so  the 
wedding  was  consummated.  Jerry  Smith  got  orders  to  select 
one  hundred  promising  yearlings  and  drive  them  over  to  the 
Randal  ranch,  with  Mr.  Monroe's  and  daughter's  compliments. 

When  Mrs.  Randal  was  taking  her  leave  she  whispered  to 
Virgie,  '"Virgie,  dear,  you  won't  be  long  after  me?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  girl. 

"Why,  has  Mr.  Scully  never  said  anything?" 

"Not  a  word,"  she  replied. 

"Well,  he's  a  little  shy,  my  girl;  he's  a  thorough  gentleman, 
and  unless  he  thought  it  would  be  satisfactory  to  your  father, 
I  hardly  think  he  would  ever  say  the  word." 

"He  is  very  reserved,"  said  Miss  Monroe.  "In  fact,  he  has 
never  told  me  how  he  became  acquainted  with  father.  All  I 
know  is  that  father  met  him  in  Denver,  and  that  he  was  out  of 
work,  and  that  father  offered  him  a  job." 

"I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Randal,  earnestly. 

"If  you  do,  then  tell  me." 

"I  daren't  without  Mr.  Randal's  consent,  but  it  was  very 
honorable" 

"If  you  love  me,  then,  get  Mr.  Randal's  consent  and  let  me 
know." 

Randal,  like  all  newly  married  men,  could  not  refuse  his 
wife  anything,  so  he  gave  the  necessary  permission. 

The  following  day  Mrs.  Randal  came  over  post  haste.  She 
and  Virgie  retired  to  Miss  Monroe's  room,  where  they  wouldn't 
be  disturbed.  Mrs.  Randal  told  her  the  story  of  Scully  going 
to  her  father's  rescue,  the  night  Monroe  was  being  nearly 
murdered.  The  story  lost  nothing  in  the  telling,  how  a  rob- 
ber was  beating  her  father  over  the  head  with  a  terrible  club, 
and  another  was  going  to  shoot  him  with  a  gun,  how  there 
was  no  help  in  sight,  and  how  Scully  ran  forward  and  shouted, 
"What  are  you  abusing  that  old  man  for?"  and  how  he,  single- 
handed,  tackled  the  fellow  with  the  club  and  the  fellow  with 
the  gun,  and  of  the  frightful  struggle  that  took  place  and  how 
her  father  lay  insensible  on  the  ground. 

Tears  came  into  ^''irgie's  eyes  as  she  listened  to  the  recital. 


VIRGIE  MONROE  MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY  287 

"Just  like  Mike,''  she  said,  when  Mrs.  Randal  had  con- 
cluded.    "It's  a  wonder  my  father  never  told  me." 

"He  told  Mr.  Randal  and  Mr.  Smith  and  Stone,  and  said  not 
to  tell  you  for  fear  you  would  be  alarmed  when  he  went  away 
again." 

"But  Mr.  Scully  never  told  me  neither." 

"You  know  Mr.  Scully  never  boasts  about  anything." 

"That's  true,"  Virgie  Monroe  replied.  "I  hope  he  won't  al- 
ways be  that  way." 

Virgie  wiped  her  eyes  as  she  kissed  Mrs.  Randal  at  parting. 

She  now  had  two  secrets :  one  her  love  for  Mike  Scully,  the 
other  his  act  of  heroism  in  coming  to  her  father's  aid ;  one  she 
couldn't  afford  to  tell,  the  other  she  couldn't  afford  to  keep. 

The  following  day  she  rode  over  the  prairies  and  waylaid 
Mike,  as  she  had  often  done  before.  Instead  of  turning  her 
horse  in  the  direction  he  was  coming,  she  pointed  her  riding 
whip  towards  Pine  Ridge  and  he,  only  too  willing  wheeled 
Hercules  around. 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  you,"  she  said. 

"Who  about?"  he  inquired. 

"About  you." 

"I  hope  it's  nothing  bad,"  he  said  smiling. 

"No,  it  is  very  good ;  but  I  thought  my  father  had  no  secrets 
from  me." 

"Well,  you  know.  Miss  Monroe,  some  of  you  ladies  have 
little  secrets  you  don't  want  people  to  know,  and  why  not  we 
men  ?  There  are  a  whole  lot  of  things  in  my  life  I  am  sure  I 
would  not  care  for  every  one  to  know — perhaps  you  yourself 
have  matters  of  a  confidential  character  that  you  think  it  would 
be  wrong  to  divulge." 

Virgie  had  only  one  secret  of  that  character — her  love  for 
Scully,  and  the  propriety  of  her  sex  compelled  her  to  keep  it, 
though  it  broke  her  heart. 

"My  father  loves  me.  Do  you  think  people  should  keep 
secrets  from  those  they  love?" 

"Yes,  if  the  recital  of  them  would  cause  either  pain  or 
anxiety  to  those  they  like,  if  the  telling  was  unnecessary." 

"So  you  have  a  secret,  too,  Mike?" 


288  VIRGIE  MONROE  MAKES  AMENDS  TO  SCULLY 

"Yes,  one  in  particular." 

"One  you  wouldn't  care  to  tell  any  one?" 

"No,  one  I  should  very  much  like  to  tell,  only  its  telling 
might  give  both  myself  and  the  listener  pain." 

"It  must  be  a  very  unhappy  secret." 

"It  might,  or  it  might  not  be.  just  as  the  listener  took  it." 

"Then  there's  a  mystery  attached  to  it." 

"No,  no  mystery.    It's  an  oft-told  story,  as  old  as  the  world." 

"Would  you  care  to  tell  me." 

"Not  if  you  would  promise  not  to  be  angry  with  me." 

"Well,  I  promise — tell  me." 

"Virgie  Monroe,  I  love  you." 

Juno  was  brought  to  a  stand,  Hercules  was  reined  up  close 
beside  her. 

Miss  Monroe  bent  over  on  her  saddle,  her  face  towards 
Scully,  his  towering  form  bent  towards  her.  He  placed  his 
good  right  arm  around  her  waist  and  kissed  her  willing  lips, 
again  and  again. 

"Let  us  turn,"  she  said.  The  happiness  of  the  reciprocated 
love  shone  resplendent  on  their  features  as  they  rode  along. 

"By-the-bye.  T  forgot  to  ask  you  what  you  had  heard  about 
me ;  now  come,  tell  me." 

"I  learned  only  yesterday  of  how  you  became  acquainted 
with  my  father." 

"Why,  every  one  knows  that  I  met  him  in  Denver.  I  was 
looking  for  a  position,  and  he  ofifered  me  one." 

"Yes,  but  T  know  the  circumstances  under  which  you  first 
met  him." 

Mike  hoped  she  didn't,  but  looked  inquiringly  at  her. 

"Yes,  I  know  how  my  father  was  attacked  by  robbers,  and 
might  have  been  murdered  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 

"Yes,  I  remember  the  incident — A^irgie,  if  you  knew  I  had 
been  somewhat  wild  in  my  young  days,  do  you  think  you  could 
still  love  me?" 

"Yes.  emphatically,  yes ;  T  love  you  for  what  you  are,  Mike, 
not. for  what  you  were ;  and  if  you  told  me  you  were  ever  mean 
I  would  not  believe  you.  If  any  one  else  told  me,  I  would  de- 
nounce them  as  falsifiers." 


Chapter  XXXI 
florence  learns  a  thing  or  two 

On  the  Monday  morning  after  the  controversy  between  Hart 
and  her  uncle,  when  Mary  Vann  arrived  at  the  millinery  de- 
partment she  looked  around  and  missing  Florence,  inquired 
if  she  had  come. 

"No,  miss,"  replied  her  assistant. 

"I'm  afraid  that  girl's  sick.  I  have  noticed  for  the  past  week 
or  so  she  seems  nervous  and  poorly  looking.  If  she  doesn't 
turn  up  tomorrow  I  must  make  inquiries  about  her." 

Florence,  not  having  shown  up  the  next  day,  Miss  Vann 
dispatched  Morris  Cohen  to  the  office  to  get  her  address.  That 
night  she  started  for  Florence's  residence.  Knocking  at  the 
door,  Mrs.  Burdett  opened  it.    "Does  Miss  Burdett  live  here?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  she  in?  I  understand  she's  sick.  My  name  is  Mary 
Vann,  I  work  in  the  same  store  with  her." 

"O,  yes,  Miss  Vann.  I  have  heard  her  talk  about  you. 
Come  in." 

"How  is  she?     I  hope  she  is  not  ill." 

Mrs.  Burdett,  before  she  made  any  reply,  begged  to  be  ex- 
cused for  a  minute.  She  retired  and  in  a  short  time  returned 
to  the  parlor  with  another  woman. 

"This  is  Mrs.  Long,  Miss  Vann." 

Miss  Vann  bowed  and  said  she  was  pleased  to  meet  her. 

"You're  the  lady  that's  at  the  head  of  the  millinery  where 
Florence  works?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  Burdett  and  Mrs.  Long  looked  at  one  another  for  a 
moment  as  if  in  doubt  what  further  to  say. 

"I  have  come  to  see  Florence,"  Miss  Vann  continued,  "who 
I  understand  is  sick.  I  have  noticed  that  she  hasn't  been  well 
for  some  time,  and  I  told  her  so.  In  fact,  I  advised  her  to  see 
a  doctor." 

289 


290  FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO 

.  There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments. 

Mary  Vann  noticed  it, 

Mrs.  Btirdett  and  ]\lrs.  Long  gazed  at  one  another  for  a 
few  seconds,  Mrs.  Rurdett  nodded  to  Mrs.  Long. 

"Well,  Miss  Vann,  as  you've  been  friendly  to  her,  I  sup- 
pose we'd  better  tell  you  the  truth.  Florence  has  had  a  quarrel 
with  some  of  the  members  of  the  family,  and  don't  feel  like 
going  back  to  the  store." 

"Well,  I'm  sure  she's  foolish  to  let  that  keep  her  away.  She 
was  doing  well,  and  every  one  in  the  establishment  thinks 
highly  of  her.  You  see,  in  my  department  a  girl  can  learn 
something,  and  in  a  short  while  would  be  able  to  command  a 
good  salary.     She'd  be  a  very  foolish  girl  to  give  up  her  job." 

Mrs.  Burdett  and  Mrs.  Long  again  looked  at  each  other. 

"What's  her  trouble?"  inquired  Mary. 

There  was  another  painful  pause. 

"You'd  better  explain,"  said  Mrs.  Long,  addressing  Mrs. 
Burdett. 

"You  can  tell  her,  Mrs.  Long." 

"Well,  it's  this  way,  Miss  Vann.  There  has  been  a  young 
fellow  running  after  her,  and  he's  objectionable  to  her  uncle, 
and  they  have  had  a  row." 

"Is  that  all?"  said  Mary,  smiling.  "You  must  know,  Mrs. 
Burdett,  that  your  daughter  is  a  remarkably  good-looking  girl. 
The  surprise  to  me  is  that  there  aren't  a  dozen  young  fellows 
running  after  her." 

"Yes,  but  we  don't  know  anything  about  this  young  man. 
She  said  he  worked  in  the  store." 

"What's  his  name?" 

"A  Mr.  Hart." 

"Hart?  Hart?  I  never  remember  hearing  the  name,  but  he 
might  be  working  there  without  me  knowing  him.  But  I'll 
soon  find  out  who  he  is  and  all  about  him.  He  may  be  all  right. 
I  don't  think,  however,  it's  much  of  a  crime  for  a  girl  to  have 
a  sweetheart." 

"Yes,  but  she  declares,"  replied  Mrs.  Long,  "that  she  doesn't 
want  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  him." 

"O,  I  see,  and  he  persists  in  forcing  himself  on  her,  does 


FLORENCE  LEy\RNS  A  THING  OR  TWO  291 

he?  Well,  if  he  works  in  our  store  you  leave  him  to  me.  I'll 
take  care  of  him." 

Mrs.  Long  again  looked  at  Mrs.  Burdett,  as  if  to  ask  her  if 
she  should  give  any  further  explanation.  Mrs.  Burdett  didn't 
seem  to  offer  any  objection.  "You  know  what  happened  at 
the  picnic,  Miss  Vann?" 

'Yes,  I  was  there,  and  now  as  I  remember,  Florence  missed 
the  train." 

"Yes,  that's  what  led  to  all  the  trouble." 

"Well,  probably  that  was  an  accident,  she  may  have  been  a 
little  careless,  I  don't  think  you  should  be  too  hard  on  her  for 
that.  You  have  no  proof  of  any  wrong-doing.  I  begin  to  be- 
lieve you  have  been  a  little  too  harsh  with  her.  Let  me  see 
her,  and  have  a  talk  with  her." 

Mrs.  Burdett  went  into  the  kitchen  and  brought  Florence. 
She  was  the  picture  of  distress,  her  eyes  were  red  with  crying. 

"Why,  Florence,  my  girl,  what's  wrong  with  you?  If  you 
were  going  to  be  hung,  you  couldn't  look  worse." 

Florence  could  not  say  anything,  but  sob. 

"I  thought,"  said  Mary, "when  I  came  to  see  you  I'd  find  you 
stretched  out  on  the  broad  of  your  back.  You  must  brace  up 
and  come  to  work." 

"I  think  she'd  better,"  said  Mrs.  Long. 

"Let  me  see — this  is  Tuesday;  you  report  for  work  on 
Thursday  morning,  and  tell  me  your  troubles.  If  she  stops 
here,"  addressing  the  two  ladies,  "moping  around,  she'll  go 
crazy." 

]\Iary  rose  and  kissed  Florence  on  the  forehead,  exacted  a 
promise  that  she  would  report  at  the  store  on  Thursday 
morning. 

"Mind,  I'll  be  there  before  you,"  she  said,  in  leaving. 

Mrs.  Long  remarked  when  she  left,  "She  seems  a  good  soul." 

Thursdav  morning  Florence  reported  at  the  store. 

"You  look  like  a  ghost,"  was  Miss  Vann's  greeting,  "I'm 
going  to  take  you  out  to  lunch  with  me  today.  I  want  to  have 
a  talk  with  you." 

At  the  Ladies'  Noonday  Rest,  there  were  some  small  dining- 
rooms  for  select  patrons.    Mary  asked  the  woman  at  the  coun- 


292  FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO 

ter  if  there  was  one  unoccupied.  The  woman  looked  surprised 
— Mary  generally  sat  at  the  table  which  had  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  diners. 

"Hello,  Mary,"  shouted  one  of  the  women,  "there's  a  seat 
here." 

"Nothing  doing,"  said  Mary,  waving  her  hand. 

When  Florence  and  she  were  seated  she  gave  Florence  the 
bill  of  fare.  "Now  eat  a  good  dinner,  girl."  Florence  couldn't 
eat. 

"Come!  Come!  You  mustn't  feel  despondent.  I'll  order 
for  you."  When  the  waiter  brought  what  had  been  ordered, 
"See  that  we're  not  disturbed,"  w.as  Mary's  command  to  him. 

When  they  had  eaten  enough  Mary  touched  the  bell,  the 
waiter  arrived. 

"Bring  me  a  Alanhattan  cocktail,"  Florence  was  surprised. 
"You  have  some  ginger  ale  if  you  want  it." 

Florence  didn't  care  for  any. 

When  the  cocktail  was  brought  and  the  waiter  gone.  Miss 
Vann  fished  a  little  gold  case  out  of  an  inner  pocket,  and  tak- 
ing a  cigarette  from  it,  lit  it  and  began  to  smoke,  Florence  was 
more  surprised  than  ever.     She  didn't  know  what  to  think. 

"Now  girl,"  said  Mary  Vann,  placing  her  two  feet  on  a 
chair,  "I  want  to  hear  your  confession." 

Florence  held  her  head  down,  but  said  nothing. 

"You  want  me  to  help  you.  Who  is  this  young  man  Hart 
that  has  got  you  into  so  much  trouble?" 

"I  don't  know,  I  first  met  him  at  that  dance." 

"You  say  he  works  in  the  store.  I  have  inquired  and  no  one 
seems  to  know  him." 

"He  don't  work  at  the  store.    I  don't  know  where  he  works." 

"Who  is  he?  or  where  does  he  live?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"You  seemed  to  be  on  intimate  terms  with  him  at  the  picnic." 

"He  forced  himself  on  me,  I  couldn't  avoid  him.  It  was  he 
that  led  me  to  miss  the  train." 

"You  stayed  with  him  that  night." 

Florence's  drooping  eyelids  and  quivering  lips  were  suf- 
ficient answer. 


FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO  2':)5 

"I  know  the  whole  story.  It's  the  moth  and  the  tlanie.  Don't 
be  afraid  of  me,  girl,  I  will  never  betray  your  secret.  I  know 
you  were  imposed,  upon;  so  was  I.  You  have  a  fatal  asset 
— your  beauty.  Vile  men  are  ever  looking  for  girls  like  you.  If 
you  were  fortunate,  that  which  you  possess  is  worth  a  king's 
ransom  ;  unfortunate,  'tis  a  fatal  acquirement.  But  you  say 
vou  first  met  him  at  a  dance;  what  took  place  there?" 

"I  am  ashamed  to  tell  you." 

"I  know  in  advance;  you  need  have  no  reserve.  As  I  told 
you  before,  I  was  also  a  victim.  Tell  me,  I'll  know  better  how 
to  act." 

Florence  told,  'midst  sobs,  her  experience  after  the  dance, 
and  of  Hart  waylaying  her  outside  of  the  store. 

"And  you  never  told  your  mother  or  any  one?" 

"No !  how  could  I  ?" 

"No,  child,  like  thousands  of  others,  you  hid  your  shame. 
Society  requires  you  should.  Not  one  girl  in  a  thousand  but 
would  have  done  likewise,  though  it  was  wrong.  You  were 
innocent  of  offense,  still  an  unkind,  ungenerous  public  would 
condemn  you,  while  the  black-hearted  ruffian  would  receive 
the  praise  of  his  associates.  They  would  glory  in  his  triumph, 
in  your  destruction,  yea,  even  many  who  consider  themselves 
paragons  of  virtue,  would  sum  up  their  conclusion  by  saying, 
'What  brought  you  there?'  Come,  we'll  have  to  go  back  to 
the  store." 

As  soon  as  Mary  Vann  had  hung  up  her  wrap  and  put  away 
her  hat  she  summoned  Morris  Cohen,  who  ran  at  her  beck. 

"Is  O'Rourke  in  the  building?" 

"I  don't  know,  miss.     I'll  find  out." 

In  a  few  minutes  Cohen  returned  with  a  big  burly  Irishman 
who  had  his  hat  on  and  looked  very  much  like  an  ordinary 
customer. 

She  waved  her  hand  to  Cohen  as  a  signal  to  vamoose. 

"O'Rourke,  there's  a  masher  stands  outside  some  evenings, 
and  he  annoys  and  insults  some  of  our  girls  as  soon  as  they 
leave  the  store." 

"Is  that  so?*  Can  you  get  any  of  the  girls  to  point  him  out 
to  me?" 


294  FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO 

"No.  but  I  can  give  you  a  description  of  him;  he's  about 
five  feet  eight  in  height,  dresses  well,  in  dark  clothes,  wears  a 
derby  hat,  and  has  a  red  head." 

"O,  sure,  the  red  head's  enough.  The  first  red-headed  man 
I  see  loitering  about  the  store  won't  know  what  struck  him." 

"Do  you  see  that  girl  ?"  pointing  to  Florence,  who  was 
standing  at  the  other  end  of  the  counter,  not  knowing  that  she 
was  the  subject  of  their  conversation. 

"Yes,  you  mean  INliss  Burdett?" 

"I  see  you  know  her,"  looking  hard  at  O'Rourke. 

"Sure,  everybody  in  the  store  knows  her,  she's  the  hand- 
somest and  best  behaved  girl  in  the  whole  establishment.  They 
tell  me  Morris  Cohen  is  stuck  on  her." 

"Why,  the  little  sheeny !  if  he  looks  at  her  I'll  spit  in  his  eye." 

O'Rourke  grinned. 

"Well,  the  fellow,  whoever  he  is,  has  accosted  Florence  a 
number  of  times.  I  want  you  to  watch  Miss  Burdett  for  the 
next  thirty  days,  and  if  you  catch  this  fellow,  I'll  ask  Shapiro 
to  raise  your  salary ;  if  you  don't,  I'll  ask  him  to  bounce  you." 

"O,  you  wouldn't  do  that,"  said  O'Rourke,  laughing.  "But 
if  he's  around  I'll  get  him.    What's  his  name,  do  you  know?" 

"I  believe  they  call  him  Hart." 

The  next  day  Miss  Vann  noticed  Florence  eating  her  sand- 
wich behind  the  big  looking  glass. 

"Why  don't  you  go  down  where  the  girls  eat?" 

"I  don't  like  to,  I  am  afraid  they  have  been  talking  about 
me." 

"Let  them  talk." 

"I  would  rather  eat  here,  if  you  wouldn't  object." 

"No;  you  want  a  little  exercise.    Mr.  Cohen." 

"Yes,  miss." 

"Miss  Burdett  is  not  very  well  at  present,  and  I  want  you 
to  pass  her  out  for  her  half  hour  at  noon  time." 

"It's  against  the  rules,  Miss  Vann." 

"Never  mind  the  rules,  you  do  as  I  tell  you,"  Turning  to 
Florence,  "There  are  some  nice  places  around  here  where  you 
can  get  a  lunch  for  ten  cents,  and  if  you  meet  that  party  be 
sure  and  let  me  know." 


FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO  295 

The  thirty  days  were  nearly  up  when  Miss  Vann  accosted 
O'Rourke,  who  was  one  of  the  house  detectives. 

"Did  you  get  that  fellow  yet?" 

"No,  miss,  but  I  very  near  got  another  fellow.  You  see  I 
follow  Miss  Burdett  every  night  till  I  see  her  get  on  the  car. 
Well,  one  night  last  week  about  fifty  feet  from  the  store  I  saw 
a  young  snip  with  a  red  head  smoking  a  cigarette,  just  as  the 
girls  came  out.  That's  my  man,  I  thinks  to  myself,  but  he's 
not  near  as  big  as  Miss  Vann  describes  him,  but  that's  him 
anyhow,  I  felt  cock  sure.  Well,  to  get  within  reach,  I  hurried 
in  advance  of  the  girls,  and  stood  waiting,  my  fist  shut,  but 
sorry  one  of  them  did  he  look  at,  I  felt  terribly  disappointed, 
and  that  fellow  will  never  know  how  near  heaven  he  was." 

"Oh,  you're  a  bum  detective,"  said  Miss  Vann,  laughing, 
as  she  ran  away. 


It  was  Christmas  eve  when  Rock  rushed  excitedly  into  Hooli- 
gan's. He  ran  over  to  where  Mort,  Bert,  and  Phipps  were 
standing,  "They've  lagged  Hart,"  he  said. 

"What,  on  the  warrant?" 

"No,  on  the  cars;  they've  got  him  dead  to  rights,  with  the 
goods  on  him." 

Going  over  to  Hooligan  he  handed  him  some  things,  saying, 
"Put  them  behind  the  bar."  He  returned  to  where  the  men 
were  standing. 

"How  was  it?"  inquired  Mort. 

"Well,  you  see,  we  were  working  State  street.  We  got  on 
a  car  that  was  crowded,  and  were  doing  fine.  Hart  had  eased 
an  old  dame  of  her  purse,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  he  was 
crowding  toward  the  door  of  the  car  when  he  spied  a  fellow 
with  a  watch  that  looked  like  pie.  He  snipped  it,  and  had  it 
in  his  hand,  when  an  old  man  happened  to  see  him,  and  shouted, 
'Holy  murder,  thieves.'  Hart  began  to  slug  right  and  left,  but 
just  as  if  it  was  to  be,  two  plain  clothes  men  had  got  on  the 
car  at  the  corner.  They  ran  in  and  jumped  Hart,  and  had  him 
down  on  his  back  m  no  time.    Then  a  woman  screamed,  'I've 


296  FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO 

lost  my  purse.'  In  the  excitement  I  made  for  the  front  of  the 
car,  it  was  going  like  blazes,  I  jumped  off  and  before  I  could 
stop  myself.  I  nearly  ran  head  first  through  a  window.  I  dived 
round  a  comer  and  stood,  while  I  saw  the  car  stop  and  they 
taking  Hart  away  with  a  pair  of  bracelets  on  him." 

"That's  tough,"  remarked  Bert,  "he's  surely  playing  in  hard 
luck." 

"Do  you  think  they  got  on  to  you  ?"  said  Phipps. 

"No,  I  think  not ;  I  was  working  at  the  other  end  of  the  car 
at  the  time." 

Hooligan  was  consulted,  he  shook  his  head,  "I  think  they've 
got  him,"  was  his  wise  prediction,  "but  I'll  see  the  alderman." 

The  following  day  being  Christmas,  the  Great  Cleveland 
store  was  closed.  The  next  day  O'Rourke  was  waiting  the  ar- 
rival of  Miss  Vann.  Before  the  lady  could  take  her  hat  off,  he 
shoved  a  paper  into  her  hand  with  a  marked  paragraph  de- 
scribing the  capture  of  a  notorious  character  by  the  name  of 
Hart  on  a  State  street  car. 

"Do  you  think  that's  him?" 

"I  went  and  made  inquiries,  and  they  told  me  he  had  a  red 
head.  They  call  him  Red  for  a  nickname,  on  account  of  the 
color  of  his  top-knot." 

"You  haven't  said  a  word  to  Florence?" 

"No." 

"Then  don't  mention  it." 

Then,  going  over  to  where  Florence  stood.  Miss  Vann 
said,  "Florence,  I'm  going  out  for  a  time;  if  Shapiro  should 
come  up  and  inquire  for  me,  tell  him  I've  gone  out  on  a  little 
business." 

Mary  Vann  went  straight  to  the  home  of  a  lady  whose  hus- 
band, she  knew,  was  well  acquainted  with  the  States  Attorney. 
After  she  told  her  story  the  lady  said,  "Robert  will  be  home  at 
noon.  I'll  make  him  see  about  it  right  away.  But,  Mary,  can't 
you  stay  and  have  dinner  with  us?" 

"No,  I  must  hurry  back  to  the  store.  Now  don't  neglect 
that  matter." 

Hart  was  held  over  to  the  grand  jury,  the  next  day  bail  was 
offered,  but  the  States  Attorney  opposed  it. 


FLORENCE   LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO  297 

"This  man,  your  honor,  is  under  bonds  already,  and,  besides, 
there's  a  warrant  for  his  arrest  on  another  charge." 

"Well,  I  must  accept  bonds  for  him  if  they  are  offered  in  a 
sufficient  amount." 

"Well,  your  honor,  as  he  is  already  under  bonds,  and  being 
under  a  warrant,  I  think  you  could  hold  him  for,  say,  ten  days, 
and  as  the  grand  jury  will  sit  on  ^Monday  next,  I'll  bring  his 
case  before  them  and  see  what  disposition  they  make  of  it." 

Hooligan  and  the  good  alderman  were  very  ill  at  ease,  while 
the  States  Attorney  was  appealing  to  the  justice. 

"Well,  since  there  is  to  be  no  delay  in  this  case,  I'll  pass  up 
the  question  of  bonds  for  a  week.  Will  that  be  satisfactory?" 
looking  at  the  States  Attorney,  who  bowed  his  acquiescence. 

The  grand  jury  found  not  only  a  true  bill  against  Hart  for 
the  latest  ofifense  but  recommended  that  his  bonds  be  increased 
for  the  case  that  had  long  been  pending. 

"They're  going  to  railroad  him, '  said  Hooligan.  "What's 
wrong  with  the  States  Attorney  ?    I  thought  he  was  right." 

"So  did  I,  but  somebody's  knocked  him,"  lamented  the  good 
alderman,  who  was  present  to  see  after  the  interests  of  one  of 
his  leading  constituents. 

Before  sixty  days  had  expired  twelve  good  men  and  true 
gave  Hart  four  years. 

"It's  an  infernal  shame,"  lamented  Hooligan,  in  talking  over 
the  matter  in  his  saloon  the  night  Hart  was  sentenced. 

Herman  Wosta,  who  had  been  playing  amateur  detective 
and  cursing  the  police  department  for  their  inability  to  capture 
Hart,  learning  of  the  robbery,  spent  the  day  of  Hart's  trial  in 
court.  When  the  verdict  was  returned  he  gave  vent  to  his 
feelings  in  a  manner  that  made  the  judge  look  sternly  over  at 
him.  The  bailiiT  pounded  his  gavel  on  the  edge  of  the  judge's 
bench. 

"You'll  have  to  get  out,"  said  another  bailifif,  laying  his  hand 
on  Herman's  shoulder,  but  as  every  one  else  was  going  that 
made  little  difference ;  he  made  a  bee-line  to  his  sister's  home, 
and  told  her  the  good  news. 

"Now.  Herman,"  said  his  sister,  appealing  to  him,  "I  don't 
want  you  to  be  harsh  with  Florence.     She  was  young  and  he 


298  FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO 

was  a  bad  man.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  only  a  harmless 
flirtation  on  her  part.  Come,  now,  tell  me  you'll  be  kind  to  her." 

Herman  remained  silent. 

"You  know  you're  her  uncle,  and  she  has  no  father.  I  want 
you  for  my  sake  to  forgive  her.  She  is  good  now,  and  the 
cause  of  her  trouble  has  been  removed." 

Herman's  great  big  heart  melted  at  the  appeal  of  his  sister. 
Harmony  was  again  restored  in  the  Wosta  family. 


The  holiday  season  had  proven  highly  remunerative  in  the 
great  Cleveland  store.  It  was  rumored  that  the  proprietor  had 
secured  an  option  on  the  adjoining  property  and  was  going  to 
put  up  an  addition  in  the  spring. 

Mary  Vann's  department  showed  good  returns.  Florence 
had  learned  a  good  deal  under  the  able  tuition  of  her  friend, 
and  Miss  Vann  struck  Shapiro  for  a  raise  in  wages  for  her 
protege. 

"I'll  give  her  another  dollar." 

"You'll  give  her  two ;  that  girl's  worth  ten  a  week." 

"Why,  Mary,  you'd  bust  the  concern  if  you  had  your  way." 

Florence,  on  arriving  home  that  evening,  told  her  mother  of 
her  raise. 

"Miss  Vann  is  a  very  good  friend  to  you,  Florence.  We 
must  ask  her  up  some  time  to  take  tea  with  us." 

Florence  heard  one  day  that  Margaret  Jenkins  had  left. 

"Did  they  discharge  her?"  she  inquired. 

"No,  she  left  of  her  own  free  will;  something  is  wrong 
with  her,"  said  the  girl,  looking  significantly  at  Florence,  who 
took  no  particular  notice  of  her  informant's  manner.  She  was 
pleased  to  know  that  Margy  had  left  the  establishment. 

On  one  occasion  when  Miss  Vann  had  a  little  time  she  and 
Florence  were  talking. 

"Where  do  you  live.  Miss  Vann?" 

"I  stay  at  the  Devonshire." 

"That's  a  very  swell  place,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  pretty  nice,  I  have  a  suite  of  rooms.** 


FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO  299 

"Do  your  people  live  there?" 

"I  have  no  people,  I  live  by  myself;  some  evening  I  will 
take  you  out  to  supper  and  show  you  my  place." 

Easter  coming  on,  Miss  Vann  was  very  busy,  and  Florence 
had  to  stay  occasionally  after  the  regular  hours  of  closing. 
Miss  Vann  sometimes  took  her  to  supper,  for  they  had  gotten 
very  chummy. 

"We  are  going  to  lose  Miss  Short,"  she  mentioned,  on  one 
of  those  occasions. 

"I'll  be  sorry  for  that,"  replied  Florence,  "she's  a  nice  lady. 
What  will  you  do,  Miss  Vann,  for  an  assistant  when  she 
leaves  ?" 

"O,  I  have  one  in  mind,"  smiling. 

The  day  after  Miss  Short  left  Mr.  Shapiro  came  up  to  the 
millinery  department.  "Well,  Miss  Short  has  left  us.  I  sup- 
pose, Mary,  you'll  have  to  advertise  for  a  woman  to  take  her 
place  ?" 

"Not  necessary,  I  have  already  selected  one." 

"Is  she  an  experienced  person?    When  did  you  get  her?" 

"We'll  not  be  busy  for  some  time  and  Miss  Burdett  can  fill 
the  bill." 

"Yes,  but  you  see  Miss  Short  has  been  with  us  for  some 
years,  and  she  had  twelve  a  week." 

"Yes,  and  she  was  worth  it." 

"But  surely  you  would  not  expect  us  to  give  the  same  salary 
to  Miss  Burdett." 

"Why  not,  if  she  can  fill  the  place?" 

Florence,  who  had  heard  part  of  the  controversy  which  was 
as  much  a  surprise  to  her  as  it  was  to  the  manager,  walked  to 
the  other  end  of  the  department  to  attend  a  customer.  She 
glanced  around,  while  the  lady  was  looking  at  hersek  in  the 
glass,  and  noticed  Shapiro  and  her  superior  still  holding  an 
animated  discussion.  Shapiro  waited  until  he  saw  that  Flor- 
ence had  effected  the  sale,  and  noticed  that  Florence's  customer 
looked  very  much  pleased  as  she  was  leaving.  He  walked 
away  when  he  saw  her  put  the  different  hats,  the  lady  had 
tried  on,  in  their  proper  place.  This  done,  Florence  walked 
over  to  where  Miss  Vann  was  standing. 


300  FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO 

"Well,  little  girl,  I've  fixed  it." 

Florence  looked  at  her  in  expectancy. 

"Yes,  you  succeed  Miss  Short;  Shapiro  wanted  to  cut  you 
down,  laut  I  wouldn't  stand  for  it." 

''And  how  much  do  I  get  now  ?" 

"Twelve  dollars  a  week." 

"Twelve  dollars  a  week!    O  that's  too  much." 

"Yes,  twelve  dollars,  and  see  that  you  earn  it,  when  I'm 
absent  you're  the  whole  thing." 

Florence  thought  that  night  she  would  never  get  home  soon 
enough.  When  she  reached  the  house  she  ran  into  the  dining- 
room  where  her  mother  was  waiting  for  her. 

"What  do  you  think,  mamma?  I've  got  another  raise," 
throwing  her  arms  around  her  mother,  "and  guess  how  much  ?" 

"Another  dollar." 

"No," 

"Well,  how  am  I  to  guess,  child?" 

"Twelve  dollars  a  week." 

A  cloud  seemed  to  come  over  Widow  Burdett's  face  in  spite 
of  the  good  news.  Florence  continued,  "You  see,  it  was  this 
way:  You  remember  me  telling  you  that  Miss  Vann's  assist- 
ant was  going  to  leave  to  get  married?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  got  her  place.  I  told  you  I'd  do  well,  when  I  went 
there,  didn't  I?" 

Mrs.  Burdett  had  some  memories  which  caused  a  little 
gloom ;  she  banished  them,  and  shared  in  her  daughter's  en- 
thusiasm. 

"You  must  go  right  over  and  tell  grandpa  and  grandma  and 
uncle  Herman  tonight.  I  know  they  will  be  glad  to  hear  it, 
and  you'll  not  have  to  work  so  hard  now,  ma,  and  that's  better 
than  all," 

The  following  morning  Shapiro  in  going  his  rounds  called 
at  the  millinery  department. 

"I  suppose  you'll  want  another  girl.  Miss  Vann?" 

"Yes,  we'll  want  one  to  put  away  the  hats  and  help  when 
we're  busy." 

Florence  thought   it  would  be  only    right    to    thank    Mr. 


FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO  301 

Shapiro  for  her  promotion,  though  she  had  hardly  ever  spoken 
to  him  before. 

"I  wish  to  thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Shapiro,  for  you  giv- 
ing me  Miss  Short's  place.  I  am  sure  I  will  do  my  best  to 
deserve  it." 

"Don't  thank  me,"  he  said,  good  naturedly ;  "you  thank  Miss 
Vann,"  looking  in  that  lady's  direction,  who  smiled  at  Shapiro 
in  turn. 

"Well,  Mary,"  turning  to  go  away,  "since  you  are  de- 
termined to  select  your  own  staff,  if  you  can  locate  a  girl 
around  the  place  you  think  will  suit  you,  take  her." 

"That  was  very  proper  of  you,"  said  Miss  Vann  to  Florence, 
"to  thank  Mr.  Shapiro,  and  I  am  very  glad  you  did  it." 

"Yes,  but.  Miss  Vann,  I  know  at  the  same  time  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  you  I  wouldn't  have  got  it." 

"Maybe  that's  so." 

"I  know  it  is  so,  but  as  he  is  manager  I  thought  I  should  be 
respectful." 

"Well,  we'll  have  to  hunt  up  another  girl  to  take  your  place ; 
do  vou  know  any?" 

"I  know  a  girl,  but  she's  in  the  hardware.  Her  name  is  Miss 
Jones.  There  used  to  be  another,  Miss  Brown,  but  she's  left 
to  be  a  nurse." 

"Well,  from  selling  tin  cans  to  selling  ladies'  hats  is  quite  a 
step,  isn't  it,  Flo?" 

"Yes,  but  Miss  Jones  is  a  very  nice,  accomplished  young 
lady." 

"Well,  slip  down  and  if  she's  not  busy,  tell  her  to  come  up. 
I  want  to  see  her." 

Miss  Jones  came  up  with  Florence.  Miss  Vann  looked  her 
over  and  asked  her  what  salary  she  was  getting  downstairs  ? 

"Four  dollars,  miss." 

"Well,  would  you  like  to  come  here  for  five?  This  is  much 
better  than  the  basement,  and  probably  in  a  short  time  you 
might  get  more  money.  You  see  your  friend  Florence  has 
been  quite  a  success." 

"I  am  sure  I  would  be  very  happy  to  get  the  place,  and 
would  do  my  very  best  to  help  you  and  Florence." 


302  FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO 

So  Miss  J\lary  Jones  was  transferred,  to  her  great  delight, 
from  the  hardware  to  the  miHinery.  The  first  opportunity  she 
had  she  thanked  Florence.  "It  is  so  kind  of  you,  Florence,  to 
think  of  me." 

Florence  did  well ;  in  a  few  weeks  Shapiro  complimented 
Miss  Vann  on  the  selection  of  her  very  lady-like  assistant. 

"Florence,  tomorrow  night  I  am  going  to  take  you  to  sup- 
per, and  then  over  to  my  place.  Tell  your  mother  in  the  morn- 
ing when  you're  leaving,  and  that  you  won't  be  home  until 
ten  o'clock." 

Florence  told  her  mother  of  Miss  Vann's  invitation,  "I  won't 
go  if  you  think  I  shouldn't,  mother." 

"Why  not,  my  child  ?  Fm  sure  Miss  Vann  has  been  so  good 
to  you,  you  should  be  pleased  that  she  asked  you." 

The  next  evening  Florence  and  J\Iiss  Vann  dined  at  a  well 
known  restaurant  in  the  down-town  district. 

"Bring  me  a  brandy  before  you  bring  the  soup,"  said  Miss 
Vann,  to  the  waiter,  as  she  gave  the  order.  The  supper  was 
the  most  elaborate  Florence  ever  had  in  her  whole  life.  She 
thought  Miss  Vann  very  extravagant. 

"Bring  me  a  pint  bottle  of  claret,"  she  ordered  the  waiter, 
after  he  had  brought  the  meal. 

"Will  you  take  a  little  of  this,  Florence?"  as  she  was  filling 
her  own  glass. 

"I  never  drank  any  of  that." 

"It's  a  light  wine.  I'll  give  you  a  little  glass  to  see  if  you 
like  it." 

"It's  not  very  sweet,"  remarked  Florence. 

"No,  it's  what  they  call  a  dry  wine.  It's  good  for  your 
stomach." 

Florence  didn't  know  that  anything  ailed  her  stomach,  and 
she  positively  didn't  like  the  wine,  but  she  drank  it  for  socia- 
bility's sake.  The  check  amounting  to  three  dollars  and  sixty 
cents.  Miss  Vann  gave  the  waiter  four  dollars,  and  waved  him 
away  with  her  hand. 

"Thank  you.  ma'am,"  he  said,  as  he  left. 

"Come,  Florence,  we'll  go." 

Miss  Vann's  apartments  consisted  of  three  rooms — a  parlor 


FLORENCE  LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO  303 

splendidly  furnished,  everything  in  it  of  a  costly  character;  in 
the  bedroom  a  massive  brass  bed,  a  wardrobe,  a  dressing  case 
with  silver-backed  brushes  and  combs,  every  article  necessary 
for  a  wealthy  lady's  boudoir.  The  third  was  a  bathroom  done 
in  white  tile.  A  large  porcelain  tub  stood  in  the  center  of  the 
floor,  a  washstand  with  mirror,  a  shower  bath  stood  in  an- 
other corner. 

Florence  gazed  in  wonder.  "This  is  beautiful.  I  didn't 
think  a  house  like  this  would  have  such  costly  furnishing." 

"Why,  child,  all  of  those  are  mine,  even  the  bathroom  fit- 
tings." 

Florence  hoped  that  some  day  she  would  be  rich  enough  to 
have  a  similar  place. 

"Maybe  you'd  better  not ;  you  don't  know  the  cost,  my  girl." 

Florence  couldn't  understand  her. 

"Take  off  your  wraps  and  hat,  lay  them  on  the  bed." 

Miss  Vann  took  off  her  dress  and  shoes,  pushed  her  feet 
into  a  pair  of  slippers,  and  going  to  a  closet,  took  out  a  Jap- 
anese kimono  and  put  it  on,  pulling  over  a  little  table  on  which 
was  an  ebony  box  mounted  with  silver.  She  took  out  a  case 
in  which  there  were  cigarettes,  and,  placing  her  feet  on  a  chair, 
began  to  smoke. 

"Florence,  your  young  man  is  still  in  Joliet,"  she  said, 
smiling. 

Florence  was  lost  for  an  answer.  "You  mean  Hart,  of 
course." 

"Yes." 

"I  suppose  he  is.     I  don't  know." 

"Do  you  understand  that  he  has  powerful  political  friends 
behind  him?" 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure ;  I  cannot  understand  why  he  should 
have,  when  it  was  proven  he  was  such  a  bad  man." 

"Ah,  I  see  you  have  little  knowledge  of  how  things  are  con- 
ducted in  this  big  city.  His  very  wickedness,  his  criminal  rec- 
ord, and  vile  disposition,  made  him  popular  with  a  class  who 
are  factors  in  boodle  politics,  as  they  say.  You  were  lucky 
things  turned  out  as  they  did,  or  he  would  have  dragged  you 
down  to  a  level  of  the  most  degraded." 


304  FLORENCE   LEARNS  A  THING  OR  TWO 

"If  then,  as  you  say,  he  was  so  influential,  how  came  it  that 
he  got  such  a  speedy  trial  ?  I  heard  people  remark  it ;  and 
such  a  severe  sentence?" 

"I  did  it.    I  went  after  him,  I  landed  him!" 

There  was  at  this  juncture  a  knock  on  the  door.    "Come  in." 

The  door  opened,  Mr.  Shapiro  entered.  He  hesitated, 
seemg  that  Mary  had  company. 

''Come  in,  come  in,  there  are  no  secrets  between  me  and 
Florence." 

Shapiro  seemed  somewhat  ill  at  ease. 

"You  know  Miss  Burdett?" 

"Yes,  I  know  the  young  lady." 

Miss  Vann  shoved  the  ebony  case  over  towards  him.  He 
took  a  cigar  from  it  and  began  to  smoke.  Miss  Vann  lit  an- 
other cigarette. 

"Doesn't  Miss  Burdett  smoke?"  he  inquired. 

"No,  she'll  learn  soon  enough.  I'm  dry — get  me  a  drink;  I 
placed  some  on  ice  before  I  left  this  morning." 

Shapiro  went  into  the  bathroom  and  returned  with  a  quart 
bottle  of  champagne.  At  the  sight  of  it  a  tremor  went  through 
Florence's  frame. 

Shapiro  popped  the  cork  like  a  man  that  had  much  experi- 
ence. 

"I  am  just  going  to  let  you  have  a  little  glass  of  this,  and 
race  you  right  home,"  said  Mary,  looking  at  her  guest. 

Florence  drank  the  glass,  only  too  anxious  to  get  away.  On 
her  way  home  she  thought  she  discovered  the  reason  Mary 
Vann  had  so  much  influence  over  the  manager  of  the  Great 
Cleveland  store. 


Chapter  XXXII 


MISS   MONROE,  DIPLOMAT 


Randal's  leaving  the  Monroe  ranch,  where  he  had  been  the 
acting  manager  for  many  years,  necessitated  a  change  in  the 
staff.  Some  one  had  to  be  selected  in  his  place.  Scully's 
popularity  enlisted  on  his  side  a  number  of  the  cowboys,  who 
began  to  talk  over  the  matter.  Mr.  Monroe  had  no  doubt 
Scully  could  fill  the  bill,  but  then  Smith  and  Stone,  who  were 
assistant  foremen,  had  prior  claims. 

Miss  Monroe's  love  for  Scully  being  paramount  over  every 
other  consideration,  her  father  was  in  a  dilemma. 

"Whom  are  you  going  to  put  in  Randal's  place,  papa?"  she 
inquired,  one  day,  when  they  were  in  the  little  office. 

"I  don't  know ;  it  seems  as  if  a  number  of  the  voung  fel- 
lows are  talking  Scully.  He,  however,  has  been  but  a  short 
time  on  the  ranch,  and  hasn't  had  much  experience.  Still  I 
have  so  much  admiration  for  the  fellow  it's  hard  for  me  to  turn 
him  down  if  he  wants  the  place." 

"He  has  been  a  good  friend  to  you,  papa." 

"Well !  haven't  I  been  a  good  friend  to  him  ?" 

"Yes,  but,  father,  he  was  a  good  friend  to  you  before  you 
knew  him  at  all." 

Monroe  turned  sharplv  around  and  looked  his  daughter  in 
the  face,  asking  her  what  she  meant. 

"I  know  of  the  service  he  rendered  you  when  you  were  in 
danger." 

"How  do  you  know?    Did  Scully  tell  you?" 

"No,  papa !  Mr.  Scully  never  mentioned  it  to  me.  nor  to  any 
other  person  on  the  ranch." 

"Well,  how  do  you  know?" 

"Another  party  told  me.  I  know  all  about  it,  it  was  told  to 
me  in  confidence  only  a  few  days  ago." 

Monroe  thought  for  a  moment.  "You  seem  to  be  an  advo- 
cate of  Scully's." 

305 


306  MISS   MONROE,   DIPLOMAT 

'"Yes,  father,  how  could  I  be  otherwise?  He  is  so  different 
from  the  other  men  on  the  ranch," 

"1  see,  I  see,"  looking  his  daughter  full  in  the  face  in  which 
he  recognized  an  index  to  her  thoughts. 

"Well,  I'll  see  Scully  and  talk  the  matter  over  with  him.  I 
don't  think  he'll  be  unreasonable,"  pulling  out  his  watch. 
■'He's  more  than  likely  around  the  men's  quarters  now;  I'll 
send  for  him  right  away." 

When  Mike  appeared  Monroe  greeted  him  sociably,  as  was 
his  custom.  Virgie  and  he  exchanged  glances.  "Sit  down, 
Mike ;  what  I  want  to  see  you  about  is  the  filling  of  Randal's 
place.  I  know  a  number  of  the  men  favor  you,  and  you  have 
a  very  warm  and  an  influential  supporter  besides.  I  just 
thought  before  I  decided,  to  consult  you  on  the  matter." 

"I  think  it's  a  very  simple  matter ;  if  I  were  in  your  posi- 
tion, Mr.  Monroe,  it  wouldn't  take  me  long  to  decide." 

"O!  that's  the  way  you  look  at  it,  is  it?  but  supposing  you 
were  to  know  that  some  one  who  has  every  claim  on  my  line  of 
action,  wanted  you,  what  would  you  say?" 

"I  would  pay  no  attention  to  them." 

Miss  Monroe  gave  a  start  and  looked  daggers  at  Mike,  who 
smiled  at  her.  Monroe  laughed  as  he  noticed  his  daughter's 
embarrassment. 

"Well,  it's  up  to  you.    What  do  you  say  ?" 

"Appoint  Jerry  Smith,  he  is  the  oldest  man  in  your  service, 
and  is  competent  to  fill  the  place.    I  believe  it  is  his  by  right." 

Monroe  looked  at  his  daughter,  "Well,  girl,  Mike  is  right, 
so  we'll  let  it  go  at  that.    What  about  Stone?" 

"Give  him  Jerry's  place." 

"Well,  w^hat  about  you?" 

"I'm  just  right  as  I  am." 

"Why  can't  you  take  Stone's  place?" 

"No,  give  it  to  Shanks,  he's  a  good,  faithful  fellow  and  can 
be  trusted." 

"Well,  as  I  remember  saying  on  a  former  occasion,  you're 
a  pretty  modest  man.  but  how  are  you  going  to  get  on  in  the 
world?" 

"I  have  no  fear  for  the  future,  Mr.  Monroe.     I  think  I  am 


MISS   MOICROE,   DIl'LOMAT  307 

doing  very  well  and  am  very  happy  as  it  is."  He  stole  a  glance 
unnoticed  by  Monroe  over  at  his  daughter,  and  saw  she  was 
somewhat  disappointed.     "If  that's  all,  I'll  go  back." 

"That's  all,"  said  Monroe,  and  Scully  took  his  leave. 

After  he  was  gone,  Monroe  looked  at  his  daughter  for  a 
few  seconds,  'T  see  you  are  disappointed,  Virgie;  your  candi- 
date wouldn't  run." 

"I  can't  understand  him,"  she  said,  pettishly. 

"I  do,  he's  a  level-headed  fellow ;  we  all  know  his  grit,  but 
I  never  knew  he  had  so  much  horse  sense  as  he  has." 

Virgie  remained  silent.  Scully's  words,  "I  would  pay  no 
attention  to  them" — that  meant  her,  though  he  didn't  know  it — 
jarred  her. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said,  to  encourage  her,  "Mike's  by  a  long 
way  the  biggest  man  on  the  ranch,  no  matter  what  position  he 
fills ;  he's  O.  K.  In  my  estimation,  you're  number  one  and  he's 
number  two,  so  don't  be  annoyed." 

This  declaration  immediately  restored  her  to  good  humor, 
she  kissed  her  father  and  left  to  attend  to  her  household  duties. 

When  the  news  of  the  promotion  was  given  out,  some  of  the 
younger  men  of  the  Monroe  outfit  were  disappointed ;  they 
believed  that  the  boss  had  turned  Mike  down,  but  as  he  was 
the  same  old  Mike,  they  soon  forgot  it. 

Scully,  the  prince  of  good  fellows  amongst  the  men,  was 
somewhat  reserved  to  the  people  of  the  homestead. 

"\'\'e  don't  see  you  very  often,  Mike,"  Monroe  said  to  him, 
one  day. 

Scully  hardly  knew  what  answer  to  make,  as  he  saw  Virgie 
very  often.    This  was  no  secret  to  Monroe. 

"T  would  like  you  to  come  over  occasionally  and  talk 
business." 

Mike  would  have  liked  very  much  to  go  over  and  talk  busi- 
ness with  his  employer,  but  not  the  kind  Monroe  had  in  mind, 
so  he  had  to  content  himself  talking  on  this  special  line  with 
Monroe's  daughter,  who  was  always  an  attentive  listener. 

Two  years  passed.  The  Lenten  season  was  approaching — 
not  that  it  made  much  difference  on  the  Monroe  ranch,  except 
to  a  few — it  was  fully  fifteen  miles  to  the  nearest  church.    Vir- 


308  MISS    MONROE,   DIPLOMAT 

gie  attended  on  special  occasions  and  was  a  liberal  contributor. 
The  good  pastor  gave  her  a  dispensation,  her  father  used  to 
accompany  her  sometimes.  \'irgie,  however,  during  the  sea- 
son given  up  to  penance,  used  to  adhere  to  the  rules,  and  make 
her  father  conform  as  much  as  she  thought  was  reasonable. 

One  day  when  she  and  Scully  were  out  riding  together  she 
said,  "Mike,  did  you  never  go  to  church?" 

"Yes,  often ;  when  I  was  little  I  used  to  serve  as  altar  boy 
at  the  altar." 

"That's  a  long  time  ago,  but  when  were  you  there  last?" 

"That's  a  leading  question,"  smiling  at  her,  and  evading  a 
direct  answer  by  saying,  "There's  no  church  to  go  to  here." 

"Well,  Wednesday  after  next  is  Ash  Wednesday,  father  and 
I  are  going,  and  we  will  take  you  with  us." 

"All  right,  I'll  go."  A  thought  flashed  through  Mike's  mind. 
His  mother's  little  prayer-book — "I  forgot  that,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "I'm  sorry  it's  gone,  I  must  have  left  it  behind  in  my 
haste  in  packing  my  things  the  day  I  left." 

On  Ash  Wednesday  the  little  church  at  M was  crowded 

with  the  faithful,  many  coming  long  distances.  All  around 
the  sacred  edifice  could  be  seen  bronchos  and  rigs  of  different 
kinds,  rough-looking  men  in  full  cowboy  costume  predomin- 
ated, and  a  few  ranchers  with  their  wives  and  daughters. 

After  service  Monroe  and  his  daughter  were  greeted  on 
every  side.  Scully  was  introduced,  but  his  reputation  had 
gone  before  him.  The  younger  men  were  particularly  sociable 
with  him. 

Mr.  Monroe  went  into  the  priest's  house  to  have  a  chat  with 
Father  Chadwick  and  to  give  him  an  Easter  offering  in  ad- 
vance ;  he  knew  his  reverence  had  hard  scraping  to  make  ends 
meet ;  especially  at  this  season  of  the  year,  when  the  priest's 
labor  and  expenses  were  considerably  augmented. 

Virgie  noticed  that  Scully  had  no  prayer-book,  so  she  took 
him  over  to  where  they  sold  religious  articles  and  bought  him 
one. 

"Now,  be  sure  and  read  that,"  as  she  gave  it  into  his  hand. 

He  smiled  affectionately  at  her  as  he  gave  his  promise.  Many 
of  the  young  women  gathered  around  Miss  Monroe  and  chat- 


MISS   MONROE.   DIPLOMAT  309 

ted  about  events  that  had  happened  since  they  last  met.  The 
ride  home  was  particularly  pleasant,  Monroe  was  in  the 
very  best  of  humor,  he  had  heard  some  complimentary  re- 
marks about  his  protege  that  pleased  him  very  much. 

"You'll  go  again  next  Sunday,  won't  you,  father?" 

"I'm  not  sure;  you  know  my  accounts  are  pretty  clear,  I 
don't  know  how  Mike  stands,"  he  said,  laughing.  Mike  turned 
red.  "If  I  can't  go,  take  Mike  with  you.  As  he  comes  from 
Chicago  perhaps  he  requires  a  little  overhauling."  Mike  and 
Virgie  were  only  too  glad  to  go  alone. 

"You  see,  father  is  getting  old,"  she  said,  apologetically,  to 
Mike,  as  they  were  mounting  for  the  long  journey  on  the  fol- 
lowing Sunday. 

As  they  rode  up  to  the  Golden  West  hotel,  where  they  had 
to  leave  their  horses,  a  crowd  gathered,  some  nodded  to  Miss 
Monroe  and  Mike ;  their  principal  object  of  curiosity,  how- 
ever, was  to  inspect  the  two  beautiful  animals. 

"Aren't  you  coming  in.  Miss  Monroe?"  inquired  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  hotel,  coming  to  the  door. 

"No,  we  haven't  time;  we  will  be  back  and  have  dinner  with 
you." 

On  the  road  home  Virgie  talked  about  little  episodes  in  her 
life,  of  her  school  days  and  of  her  early  experiences  as  a  girl. 
She  never  tired  in  praising  her  father.  Mike  spoke  of  Chi- 
cago, but  never  of  himself. 

"Do  you  ever  write  to  your  friends,  Mike?" 

"No,  I  have  no  friends.  I  had  many  acquaintances,  but  in 
leaving  I  decided  never  to  write,  and  up  to  the  present  have 
seen  no  reason  to  change  my  mind."  Virgie,  as  was  only 
natural,  was  very  desirous  to  learn  something  of  his  early  his- 
tory, but  as  he  was  unwilling  to  talk  of  it,  she  considered  it 
bad  taste  to  press  him. 

On  the  following  Sunday  Mr.  Monroe  accompanied  them. 
Monroe  was  pleased  to  see  Scully's  knowledge  of  the  services, 
when  to  kneel,  when  to  stand,  when  to  sit  down.  He  noticed 
Mike's  attention  to  the  sermon,  and  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  Mike  was  somewhat  of  a  practical  Catholic. 

On  the  third  Sunday  Monroe  felt  like  staying  at  home;  he 


310  MISS   MONROE,   DIPLOMAT 

didn't  feel  well.  As  Miss  Monroe  and  Scully  were  returnnig, 
Mike  asked  her  if  she  thought  her  father  would  ever  agree  to 
their  marriage. 

"You'll  have  to  ask  him,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"I  suppose  so,  it's  not  the  fear  of  asking  him,  but  the  fear 
of  his  refusal  I  dread ;  you  know,  Virgie,  I  would  have  to 
leave  here  if  he  said  no." 

"I'll  talk  the  matter  over  with  him  myself  this  week." 

"Brave  girl !  see  that  you  push  my  suit ;  tell  him  that  I  know 
J  am  not  worthy  of  you." 

"Do  you  think  that  would  be  the  best  way?"  she  said,  smil- 
ing. 

"It's  true,  and  tell  him  the  truth;  it's  what  I  will  do  if  I 
am  compelled  to  solicit  your  hand." 

"I  will  tell  him  no  such  thing;  I  will  tell  him  I  want  you, 
and  that  my  happiness  depends  on  it." 

One  afternoon  in  the  following  week  Monroe  and  his  daugh- 
ter were  together  in  the  office. 

"Papa,  how  old  was  my  mother  when  you  and  she  were 
married  ?" 

"What  makes  you  ask  me  such  a  question,  child?" 

"I  thought  I  would  like  to  know." 

"She  was  just  turned  nineteen." 

"Do  vou  think  she  was  too  voung  to  marry?" 

"No.'' 

"She  was  poor,  I  understand." 

"She  hadn't  a  nickel,  but  what  difiference  did  that  make?  I 
had  plenty." 

"Then  you  didn't  think  when  you  married  her  you  married 
below  your  station?" 

"Whv,  child,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  There  was  no  such 
thing  as  station.  I  married  your  mother  because  I  loved  her. 
Do  you  think  I  took  an}'  cognizance  of  her  poverty  ?" 

"Do  you  think  she  loved  you  for  yourself. 

"She  said  she  did." 

"And  you  believed  her?" 

"Implicitly !  I  believe  I  was  her  first  and  only  choice." 

"Then  she  Sfot  the  man  she  wanted?" 


MISS    MONROE,   DIPLOMAT  311 

"Sure." 

"Do  you  think  every  woman  should  have  her  pick?" 

"Well,  hardly ;  some  foolish  girls  are  incapable  of  judging — 
they  become  infatuated  with  some  worthless  fellow  and  make 
fools  of  themselves.  Then  I  think  parents  are  in  duty  bound 
to  interfere.     I 'know  I  would." 

"How  long,  pa,  do  you  think  a  woman  should  know  a  man 
before  she  marries  him  ?'" 

"O  there's  no  rule  in  that  matter ;  you  might  know  some 
men  half  your  life,  and  they  would  turn  out  a  fraud  at  the 
finish ;  there  are  others  you  could  form  an  opinion  of  in  a  year. 
There  are  certain  traits  in  men's  characters  that  can  be  seen 
on  the  surface.  The  woman,  however,  who  marries  a  man  of 
vile  disposition  in  the  hope  of  changing  him,  is  foolish.  I 
have  known  some  women  in  New  York  marry  drunkards, 
tinder  the  belief  that  they  could  make  sober  men  of  them; 
'twould  be  better  they  had  married  horse  thieves.  Then,  I 
believe,  they  would  have  some  hopes." 

"I  believe,  father,  you  would  be  very  hard  to  please." 

"In  your  case,  yes,  my  dear,  very  hard  to  please ;  but  we'll 
talk  about  that  when  I  see  some  fellow  coming  around  after 
you.  I  hope  it  will  be  a  long  time,  I  want  you  all  to  myself; 
you  know  you're  all  I  have."  He  took  her  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  her — "now  run  away  and  'tend  to  your  work." 

"But,  father,  suppose  some  one  is  already  coming  around 
after  me?" 

"What !" 

"And  that  he  was  not  going  to  take  me  away  from  you  ?" 

"Well,  then,  I  would  want  a  little  time  to  consider  it,  but 
wait  till  he  asks  me  for  you." 

"He  may  be  afraid  to  ask  you." 

"Then  he's  a  coward,  and  no  man." 

"You  wouldn't  say  that,  pa,  if  you  knew  whom  I  mean." 

"I  believe  I  already  know  whom  you  mean ;  physically,  he 
may  be  the  bravest  of  the  brave.  Let  us  try  his  mental  and 
moral  courage.  Your  father  has  not  been  blind  to  what  has 
been  going  on  for  the  past  year." 

"Then  you  are  not  angry  with  me,  pa,  are  you?" 


312  MISS   MONROE,   DIPLOMAT 

"No,  my  child,  since  your  mother's  death  your  happiness  has 
been  my  only  care.  It's  natural  }-ou  should  want  a  mate — my 
only  desire  is  that  you  should  have  one  worthy  of  you." 

"Well,  don't  you  think  Mr.  Scully  is  a  good  man?" 

"I  have  no  reason  to  think  otherwise.  Has  he  talked  this 
matter  over  with  vou?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  gave  him  some  encouragement?" 

"Yes,  I  have,  father ;  I  love  him  dearly  and  I  know  he  loves 
me." 

"Then  I  have  no  objection." 

"Best  of  fathers !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  threw  her  arms 
around  his  neck.  A  tear  glistened  in  his  eye,  his  thoughts 
were  on  her  departed  mother. 

"Say  nothing  to  Mike  about  our  conversation,  don't  forget 
your  dignity.  If  he  wants  you,  there  is  no  fear  but  he'll  ask 
for  you."  were  his  parting  words. 

The  following  day  \^irgie  and  Scully  met  on  the  range.  She 
was  full  of  life,  he  was  somewhat  melancholy. 

"Virgie,  can  I  have  any  hope  of  gaining  your  father's  con- 
sent ?" 

"You  can  ask  him,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"I'm   afraid." 

"Why,  I  thought  you  were  brave!" 

"Maybe,  in  some  things — it  is  not  the  asking  I  dread,  but 
his  refusal." 

"You  know  the  old  saving,  'Faint  heart  never  won  fair 
lady.'  " 

"Well,  when  do  you  want  me  to  see  him?" 

"Tomorrow  after  dinner.  He  generally  goes  to  his  office. 
I  will  pin  my  handkerchief  on  my  window  as  a  signal  that  he 
is  alone ;  you'll  not  have  as  long  a  struggle  with  him  as  you  did 
with  Prince  Mon,"  she  said,  laughing. 

Mike,  as  per  agreement,  watched  for  the  signal.  He  saw 
Virgie  pin  her  handkerchief  to  the  middle  sash,  and  smile  at 
him  as  she  saw  him  looking. 

Mike  went  in  and  knocked  at  the  office  door,  "Come  in. 
Hello,  Mike,  is  that  vou?     Sit  down." 


MISS    MONROE,   DIPLOMAT  313 

'■'I  would  as  soon  stand,  sir,  I  came  on  very  important 
business." 

"Well,  spit  it  out." 

"I  came  to  ask  3'ou  for  your  daughter's  hand." 

Monroe  feigned  to  be  very  much  surprised.  "I  suppose 
you'd  like  the  ranch  thrown  in?" 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Mike,  reddening  to  the  roots  of  his  hair, 
"I  want  nothing  thrown  in." 

"I  always  thought  you  were  a  pretty  modest  kind  of  a 
fellow,"  remarked  Monroe,  teasing  him. 

"Well,  sir,  I  hope  \'OU  don't  think  me  sordid,  or  that  I  am 
wishing  to  marry  your  daughter  on  account  of  her  financial 
prospects?" 

"Suppose  I  don't  consent,  what  then?" 

"Well,  I'll  have  to  leave  this  place,  though  not  unmindful 
of  the  services  you  have  rendered  me,  Mr.  Monroe.  But  I 
couldn't  stay  a  day  longer." 

"Then  to  keep  you  on  the  ranch  I  must  give  up  my  daugh- 
ter?" 

"Don't  put  it  in  that  way,  Mr.  Monroe.  It  would  be  better 
for  me  to  leave,  better  for  both  me  and  her." 

"I  hate  like  hell  to  lose  you,  Mike.'' 

Scully  turned  as  about  to  leave — he  had  been  standing  dur- 
ing the  colloquy. 

"Sit  down  a  moment." 

"I  would  rather  be  going,  sir."  He  was  the  picture  of  de- 
spair. 

"Sit  down,  I  want  to  tell  you  something." 

Mike  waited  for  Monroe  to  speak,  to  hear  his  hopes  blasted. 

Monroe  looked  him  steadily  in  the  face  for  a  second,  "Mike, 
my  daughter  is  all  I  have  in  the  world.  You  don't  think  I 
prize  those  fields,  this  home,  or  those  cattle,  as  anything  in 
comparison  to  my  daughter's  happiness,  and  you  come  and 
ask  me  to  give  her  up !" 

"I  would  try  to  make  her  happy,  sir,  and  would  be  faithful 
to  you.  I  would  be  satisfied  for  you  to  still  have  the  first 
claim  on  her." 

"That's   not   natural — the   wife   must    give   up    father   and 


314  MISS    MONROE,   DIPLOMAT 

mother  to  follow  her  husband.  She  must  leave  the  home  of 
her  parents  if  he  wills." 

"But  I'll  never  will  it." 

"Well,  there's  no  use  of  talking  further  about  it." 

"Well,  \[r.  iNIonroe,  I  hope  you'll  forgive  me,  I  have  spent 
two  happy  years  with  you  and  wherever  I  am,  I  will  never 
forget  your  kindness,"  Mike  extended  his  hand.  "I  would  like 
to  bid  Miss  Monroe  good-bye,  sir,  if  you  have  no  objections." 

"Not  a  bit ;  you  can  see  her,  if  you  want  to." 

Scully  met  Mrs.  Thompson  in  the  passage.  She  saw  he  was 
in  bad  spirits.  "What's  wrong,  Mike?  Hope  you  and  Monroe 
have  not  had  a  falling  out?" 

"No.    I  want  to  see  Miss  Monroe." 

"She's  upstairs — I'll  call  her  down." 

"Let  him  come  up,"  spoke  a  voice  from  the  second  landing. 
"I'll  see  him  here." 

As  soon  as  Mike  reached  the  landing  Virgie  beckoned  him 
to  come  into  a  room.  He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  he  saw  it 
was  her  bedroom. 

"Well,  you  saw  father?"  she  said,  eagerly. 

"Yes,  there  is  no  hope  for  us,"  in  the  most  melancholy  tone. 

She  burst  out  laughing.  He  looked  at  her  in  blank  amaze- 
ment. 

"What  did  he  say  to  you?" 

"Why,  he  wouldn't  give  me  any  encouragement." 

"But  did  he  say  no?" 

"Not  exactly,  but  just  the  same  he  wouldn't  consent." 

She  approached  where  he  was  sitting,  his  head  bowed  down, 
she  lifted  it  up  and  kissed  him. 

"Never  mind,  Mike,  I  have  his  consent  already."  He  looked 
up  for  a  moment,  bewildered.  "Yes,  my  father  has  consented 
to  our  marriage." 

He  jumped  from  his  seat,  folding  her  in  his  arms,  laughing 
with  her.     "So  the  old  man  was  only  tormenting  me !'" 

"Yes,  come  downstairs  and  we'll  make  him  apologize." 

When  they  reached  the  office  Monroe  was  coolly  smoking  a 
big  black  cigar. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  to  Mike?"  she  said. 


MISS    MONROE.   DIPLOMAT  315 

"I  have  done  nothing  to  him,  I  just  wanted  him  to  receive 
the  verdict  from  you — Mike,  take  a  cigar." 

Scully  was  compelled  to  laugh  at  the  methodical  coolness  of 
his  friend  and  benefactor.  "Mr.  Alonroe,  I  hope,  with  God's 
help,  to  prove  worthy  of  the  confidence  you  repose  in  me." 

"I  have  no  fear,  my  boy,"  extending  his  hand.  "I  must  go 
out,"  Monroe's  heart  was  too  full  to  stay. 

"Now,  Mike."  A^irgie  said,  when  her  father  had  left,  "you 
must  come  and  stay  in  the  house ;  I  have  already  had  Mrs. 
Thompson  fix  your  room.  You  know  you  will  have  to  make 
some  preparations,  which  you  can  hardly  do  in  the  men's 
quarters." 

"Do  you  think  it  necessary  for  me  to  change  places?" 

"Yes,  it  is;  during  this  season  I  don't  want  you  to  have  to 
listen  to  the  coarse  talk,  and  ribald  jests,  that  I  know  are  com- 
mon over  there,  so  take  George  over  with  you  and  bring  what 
things  you  want  with  you." 

That  evening  Scully  surprised  the  boys  by  saying.  "Well, 
boys  I  am  going  to  leave  you." 

"What's  that  you  say?"'  said  one,  eagerly — they  were  all 
excited  for  a  moment. 

"What's  up?    You're  not  going  away,  surely?" 

"No."  he  said,  laughing,  "I  am  just  going  to  change  quar- 
ters for  a  while ;  T  am  going  over  to  the  house." 

Holy  week  had  come.  Michael  had  prepared  himself  for  a 
terrible  ordeal.  He  had  a  very  big  story  to  tell  the  Reverend 
Father  Chadwick.  It  had  to  be  done,  however,  there  was  no 
escape  from  it.  It  was  on  Holy  Thursday  Mike  and  his  af- 
fianced set  out  for  the  church. 

Virgie  was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  Mike  was  a  little  gloomy. 
"I  suppose  you've  a  long  story  to  tell  Father  Chadwick?"  she 
said,  quizzing  him. 

"A  great  deal  too  long,"  he  replied,  "but  I'll  see  that  the 
score  is  properly  and  promptly  kept  up  to  date,  in  the  future." 

"I  expect  you'll  have  no  account  in  the  future,"  she  said, 
laughing. 

When  they  reached  the  sacred  edifice  Father  Chadwick  was 
in  the  confessional,  quite  a  number  were  waiting.     When  it 


316  MISS   MONROE,   DIPLOMAT 

came  to  Miss  Monroe's  turn  she  was  in  and  out  again  in  a  few 
seconds ;  Scully  had  a  feeling  such  as  he  had  never  had  be- 
fore ;  tackling  the  two  robbers,  Bingo,  or  Prince  Mon,  was 
nothing  to  it.  He  was  a  very  long  time  in  the  box ;  his  future 
wife,  intent  on  her  prayers,  had  not  noticed  it. 

When  Mike  came  out  of  the  confessional  he  felt  the  same 
relief  that  all  penitent  sinners  do,  who,  under  similar  circum- 
stances, have  faith  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Roman  Catholic 
Church — a  load  had  been  lifted  from  his  heart,  his  soul,  his 
conscience,  and,  as  he  knelt  down  beside  the  woman  he  loved, 
he  felt  his  spirits  rise. 

Skeptics  and  protestors  may  dispute  this  theory,  but  no 
greater  solace  to  a  sinful  soul  can  possibly  be  found  than  that 
furnished  by  the  Catholic  Church.  "Confession  is  good  for  the 
soul,"  is  an  old  saying — it  might  be  added,  it  is  good  for  the 
mind ;  yea,  and  good  for  the  body.  Michael  Scully  felt  the  full 
influence  of  it.  He  was  a  man  again.  Father  Chadwick  may 
have  exacted  from  him  a  strict  penance,  but  in  the  privacy  of 
his  room  he  performed  it  cheerfully. 

As  he  and  Virgie  Monroe  approached  the  altar  together  on 
Easter  Sunday  morning  to  partake  of  the  Sacrament,  Mike 
had  one  thought  uppermost  in  his  mind — God  had  been  good 
and  merciful  to  him. 

Many  gazed  at  the  young  couple  in  admiration. 

The  young  women  as  they  gathered  outside  the  church,  af- 
ter service,  gossiped  with  Miss  Monroe.  "When  is  it  going 
to  come  off,  Virgie?"  asked  Miss  Stringer. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Virgie,  laughing. 

"O  you  know  what  I  mean — I  suppose  you'll  give  us  a  good 
time?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Virgie,  "you'll  have  to  ask  Mike," 
who  at  the  time  was  the  central  figure  in  a  group  of  stalwart 
young  mountaineers  who  began  to  look  upon  him  as  a  leading 
citizen.  "You'll  excuse  me.  gentlemen."  he  said,  "T  see  Miss 
Monroe  is  waiting  for  me." 

They  both  went  into  the  priest's  house  and  told  Father 
Chadwick  they  had  a  job  for  him  in  the  near  future. 

He  congratulated  them  both,  hoping  God  would  bless  them. 


FLORENCE    BURDETT   ENTERS   SOCIETY  317 

The  following  Sunday  in  reading  of  the  announcements 
there  was  a  commotion  in  the  church  as  the  pastor  read,  "There 
is  a  promise  of  marriage  between  Michael  Scully,  late  of  Chi- 
cago, and  Miss  Virginie  Monroe  of  this  county,  first  announce- 
ment." 

When  Virgie  and  Scully  came  out  they  were  surrounded 
by  nearly  the  whole  congregation,  who  wished  them  every  joy. 


Chapter  XXXIII 

FLORENCE   BURDETT   ENTERS  SOCIETY 

The  morning  after  Florence's  visit  to  Miss  Vann's,  she  and 
Mary  were  talking  at  the  counter  when  Shapiro  came  along. 
Morris  Cohen,  seeing  him,  came  towards  them,  said,  "Good 
morning,  Mr.  Shapiro,  I  see  you've  got  back ;  how  did  you 
find  things  in  New  York?" 

"Business  is  quiet  there.  I  got  a  few  lines  that  I  think  will 
suit  us." 

"When  did  you  get  in?" 

"About  an  hour  ago." 

Florence  could  not  help  looking  at  Mary  Vann ;  that  lady's 
face  was  expressionless.  Florence  turned  and  walked  away, 
leaving  Shapiro  and  the  head  of  the  millinery  department 
together. 

Two  weeks  afterward  Miss  Vann,  approaching  Florence, 
.said,  "Flo,  T  have  two  tickets  for  the  theatre  for  next  Thurs- 
day night,  and  will  be  unable  to  go.  I  will  give  them  to  you, 
you  can  take  some  one  with  you." 

"I  don't  know  whom  I  could  take." 

"Take  your  mother,  I  am  sure  she  would  enjoy  it." 

Florence  was  elated  when  she  went  home  that  evening  and 
informed  her  mother  about  the  tickets.  "It's  to  be  a  grand 
performance,  ma,  the  lady  who  takes  the  leading  part,  they 
say,  is  splendid.     You  must  come." 


318  FLORENCK    BIRDKTT    ENTERS    SOCIETY 

"Why,  child,  I  was  never  at  a  theatre  Hke  that  in  my  life." 

"That's  no  matter,  you  must  come  with  me.  You  know  I 
was  never  at  a  theatre  either,  and  I  want  to  go." 

Mrs.  Burdett,  remembering  a  former  occasion  when  she  had 
pleaded  an  excuse  (which  she  had  afterwards  cause  to  regret), 
consented  to  accompany  her  daughter. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  theatre,  Widow  Burdett  was  as- 
tonished at  the  magnificence  of  the  surroundings.  Having 
gone  early,  they  were  ushered  into  their  seats,  which  happened 
to  be  in  the  parquet,  fifth  row  from  the  stage,  in  a  central 
position. 

"These  seats  are  grand,  ma ;  we  can  see  and  hear  every- 
thing." 

The  theatre  began  to  fill.  Mrs.  Burdett  was  astonished  to 
see  all  the  finery ;  it  was  a  gala  night,  the  house  was  crowded 
from  parquet  to  gallery,  the  boxes  were  filled  with  well  dressed 
women,  some  decollette,  a  few  men  occupied  the  rear  seats 
in  the  boxes,  dressed  in  evening  costume.  Many  groups  were 
chatting  previous  to  the  curtain  going  up  for  the  first  time, 
The  ladies  in  different  parts  of  the  house  using  their  opera 
glasses  and  turning  to  those  in  close  proximity  to  point  out 
acquaintances  they  recognized  in  the  audience,  a  waving  of  a 
fan,  the  nodding  of  heads  and  smiles  of  recognition  that  passed 
between  the  people  seemed  to  interest  Mrs.  Burdett.  Florence 
was  all  enthusiasm,  delighted  with  everything  she  saw,  and 
felt  happy  at  the  thought  that  her  mother  was  with  her,  dressed 
neatly  but  plain.  They  seemed  out  of  place  in  such  a  fashion-r 
able  crowd. 

The  orchestra  began  to  play,  at  last  the  curtain  rose,  all  eyes 
were  on  the  stage.  The  play  w^as  "Camille."  The  great  Madam 
Tremain  took  the  leading  role. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  play  Mrs.  Burdett  was  very  much 
impressed  by  the  realism  of  the  stage  settings,  the  characters, 
and  their  costumes,  never  having  seen  a  performance  on  such 
a  scale  before.     It  seemed  to  her  truly  marvelous. 

The  supper  scene  was  to  her  a  source  of  great  delight,  the 
gaiety  and  laughter  of  the  performers  were  contagious.  She 
enjoyed  it  immensely. 


FL0RENC1-:    BITRDETT    ENTERS    SOCIETY  319 

Florence  was  happy  in  seeing  her  mother  enjoy  the  per- 
formance. She  was  in  raptures.  When  the  curtain  went  down 
after  the  first  act  she  turned  to  her  mother,  "Isn't  it  grand,  ma? 
Aren't  you  glad  you  came?" 

As  the  play  progressed  an  uneasy  feeling  came  over  Flor- 
ence's mother.  She  began  to  be  suspicious  of  the  moral  tone 
of  the  play,  and  as  to  the  propriety  of  young  women  like  her 
daughter  listening  to  the  discourse  of  the  men  and  women  in 
the  cast. 

Mrs.  Burdett  gazed  into  the  faces  of  many  of  the  women  in 
the  audience,  as  if  to  learn  their  feelings  in  the  matter,  but  the 
only  sentiment  she  could  discern  was  the  intense  interest  they 
took  in  the  play  and  the  attention  paid  to  the  dialogue,  some 
of  which  in  her  opinion  was  suggestive  of  improper  relation- 
ship. The  cottage  in  the  garden  where  Camille  and  Armand 
Duval  took  refuge  reminded  her  forcibly  of  a  period  in  her 
own  simple  life.  When  Henry  Burdett  and  she  were  first 
married,  they,  too,  had  their  cottage  and  its  garden,  how  they 
were  full  of  hope  with  every  prospect  of  a  happy  future,  soon, 
alas !  to  be  blasted  bv  the  inexorable  hand  of  fate.  A  feeling 
of  sadness  came  over  her,  which  reached  the  climax  in  the  last 
scene  where  Camille.  sick  unto  death,  mourned  the  absence  of 
the  man  she  loved. 

Florence  and  her  mother  shed  tears  during  the  death  scene, 
as  did  many  of  those  in  the  great  audience.  The  reality  of  the 
acting  of  Madam  Tremain,  as  she  sat  dying  in  a  chair  near 
the  footlights,  in  plain  view  of  Mary  Burdett,  so  affected 
her  as  to  be  only  relieved  when  the  curtain  rose  after  the  last 
Sict,  and  in  response  to  loud  and  repeated  calls  of  the  delighted 
audience,  Madam  Tremain,  full  of  radiant  smiles,  bowed  her 
acknowledgment  to  her  enthusiastic  admirers. 

That  night,  before  Mrs.  Burdett  retired  to  rest,  she  prayed 
fervently  that  Divine  Providence  might  shield  her  daughter 
from  the  allurements  of  wealth  and  the  temptations  of  design- 
ing, profligate  men. 

The  following  morning,  while  at  breakfast,  Mrs.  Burdett 
told  Florence  to  invite  Miss  Vann  to  her  home  to  take  tea  with 
them. 


320  FLORENCE    BIRDETT    ENTERS    SOCIETY 

"You  know,  Florence,  she  has  been  very  good  to  you  and  I 
want  to  show  her  we  are  not  unmindful  of  her  kindness." 

Florence  was  only  too  happy  to  ask  her  friend  to  visit  them. 
That  same  day  she  told  Miss  \^ann  of  her  mother's  desire. 
"You  know,  Miss  Vann,  my  mother  would  be  verv  much 
pleased  if  you  would  come.  We  haven't  much  of  a  home,"  apolo- 
getically, "but  Fm  sure  you  won't  mind  that." 

"Whv,  girl,  what  are  you  talking  about?  Your  home  is  a 
palace  to  what  I  was  accustomed  to  in  my  early  days.  I  have, 
as  you  know,  been  to  your  house,  and  was  very  much  impressed 
with  what  I  saw,  everything  neat  and  nice.  Fll  go,  and  be 
glad  of  your  invitation.  It  will  have  to  be  on  a  Sunday,  how- 
ever ;  say  next  Sunday." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Long  were  invited,  Mrs.  Sloan,  as  on  all  great 
occasions,  had  to  be  there,  though  she  was  now  well  up  in 
years.  Mrs.  Burdett  would  have  liked  to  have  had  her  father 
and  mother  come,  but  the  old  couple  had  to  decline.  Old  Mrs. 
Wosta  was  feeble,  and  the  old  man  enjoyed  his  rest  on  a  Sun- 
day. He  generally  took  a  nap.  Herman  was  asked  and  prom- 
ised he  would  attend. 

Mrs.  Sloan  baked  a  cake  for  the  occasion,  and  a  few  extra 
little  dainties  were  provided.  Florence  was  naturally  anxious 
to  entertain  her  patron  as  best  their  humble  means  could 
provide. 

About  five  in  the  evening  a  cab  stopped  at  the  door  and  Miss 
Vann  stepped  out  of  it,  Florence  met  her  at  the  door  and 
ushered  her  into  the  parlor.  Miss  Vann  was  a  revelation — 
dressed  in  the  pink  of  fashion,  her  dress,  her  coat,  her  para- 
sol, seemed  the  costliest  that  money  could  buy.  Florence  had 
never  seen  her  in  her  best  attire  before,  "Miss  Vann.  you  look 
charming."  she  said,  as  she  scrutinized  her,  previous  to  notify- 
ing her  mother  and  Mrs.  Long  of  her  arrival.  "Take  ofif  your 
hat  and  coat — give  them  to  me." 

Mrs  Burdett  and  Mrs.  Long  came  into  the  parlor.  "Fm 
sure.  Miss  Vann,  T  am  very  much  pleased  that  you  came.  You 
have  been  so  good  to  Florence,  I  want  to  thank  you  for  all 
you  have  done  for  us." 

"Don't  mention  it,  Mrs.  Burdett.     Florence  is  a  good  girl 


FLORENCE    BIJKDETl     ENTERS    SOCIETY  321 

and  deserves  all  I  have  ever  done  for  her.  I  don't  know  how 
I  could  get  on  withotit  her." 

Mrs.  Burdett's  heart  was  overtiovving  with  gratitude,  and 
Mrs.  Long  was  no  less  pleased  to  hear  her  talk  as  she  did. 

Mr.  Long  and  Herman,  who  had  been  out  in  the  garden, 
came  in  and  were  duly  introduced. 

"Did  I  not  see  you  before,  Mr.  Wosta?"  inquired  Miss  Vann. 

Herman,  who  had  recognized  her  at  first  glance  as  being 
amongst  those  he  had  seen  around  Florence  at  the  picnic, 
looked  embarrassed ;  Florence's  face  took  on  a  ruddier  hue.  Miss 
Vann  noticed  it  in  a  moment  and  changed  the  subject. 

"You  have  a  cosy  little  place  here,  Mrs,  Burdett.  This,  I 
suppose,  is  a  picture  of  Florence's  father?"  looking  at  the  pic- 
ture on  the  wall. 

"Yes,  Miss  Vann." 

"I  notice  the  resemblance.  I  hear  Florence  sometimes  talk- 
ing of  the  garden  you  have,  I  must  see  it." 

"Florence  will  show  ypu  while  we  are  preparing  supper. 
You  and  Mr.  Long  can  go,  too,"  speaking  to  her  brother. 

Miss  Vann  praised  everything  in  the  garden.  "What  beauti- 
ful geraniums  you  have,  and  those  peonies  are  very  fine,  and 
rose  bushes,  too.  This  is  delightful."  Looking  at  Herman, 
■'Who  is  the  gardener?" 

"My  sister." 

"She  must  be  very  clever." 

"Florence,  come  here  a  minute,"  said  her  mother,  speaking 
from  the  back  porch. 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  \'ann,"  said  Florence. 

"Run  along,  girl."  As  soon  as  Florence  had  left,  Mary 
Vann  turned  to  Wosta,  "Dietche  spracheni^" 

"Yah." 

"Do  you  understand  German,  Mr.  Long?" 

"Not  a  word." 

"Then  it  is  not  good  taste  to  speak  in  a  language  that  part 
of  the  company  don't  iniderstand." 

"O,  never  mind  me,"  said  Long,  laughing. 

Mary  Vann  and  Herman  began  to  converse.  "You  see,  my 
people  were  Hollanders,"  she  said  to  him,  in  excellent  Ger- 


322  FLORENCE    BURDETT    ENTERS    SOCIETY 

man,  "We  used  to  live  in  Philadelphia;  Tm  one  of  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Dutch  you  have  heard  about." 

Herman  was  delighted  to  hear  it.  The  conversation  between 
the  two  became  very  animated,  Herman  laughed  frequently 
during  the  discourse.  She  inquired  into  his  whole  history, 
what  he  worked  at,  and  what  became  of  the  stout  girl  he  had 
at  the  picnic.    This  last  seemed  to  tickle  him. 

"I  have  lost  all  track  of  her." 

"Well,  she  could  hardly  run  away  from  you,"  she  said, 
smiling.  "I  noticed  her  in  the  race,  she  didn't  seem  to  be  able 
to  run  very  fast." 

Herman  laughed  heartily. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  am  talking  to  him  about?"  she  said, 
in  English,  to  Mr.  Long. 

"No,  miss." 

"I  am  talking  about  a  little  German  girl  he  had  out  at  the 
picnic.  He  seemed  to  be  infatuated  with  her,  in  fact,  wouldn't 
look  at  anyone  else,  and  now  he  is  trying  to  tell  me  he  doesn't 
know  anything  about  her.  Do  you  think  I  should  believe  him  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Long,  smiling. 

Herman  was  delighted  with  Mary,  her  sprightly  conversa- 
tion pleased  him  very  much.  He  set  about  plucking  some  flow- 
ers for  her.  She  thanked  him  and  held  them  in  her  hand  until 
they  were  called  into  the  house,  where  she  got  a  pin  from  Mrs. 
Burdett  and  fastened  them  on  her  bodice. 

Mary's  sociable  disposition  and  entertaining  chat  during 
supper  impressed  her  listeners  very  favorably. 

"I  suppose  you'll  soon  be  giving  up  the  business,  Miss  Vann," 
remarked  Mrs.  Long. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"Why,  getting  a  husband  and  settling  down." 

"I  don't  find  them  very  easy  to  get." 

"You  don't?    Why,  I've  had  two  of  them." 

"Is  that  so?  Well,  I  think  the  one  you  have  now  will  hold 
you  for  some  time,"  looking  over  at  Mr.  Long.  "I  have  never 
received  a  good  oflfer  yet,"  said  Mary,  continuing. 

"Maybe  you're  very  hard  to  please?"  said  Mrs.  Burdett, 
chiming  in. 


FI,ORENCE    BURDETT   ENTERS   SOCIETY  323 

"I  don't  know,  as  soon  as  Mr.  Right  comes  along,  I  sup- 
pose I'll  be  like  the  rest  of  my  sex,  not  be  able  to  say  'No'  to 
him." 

When  it  came  time  to  take  her  departure,  Mrs.  Long,  Mrs. 
Burdett  and  Florence  went  to  the  bedroom  with  her  to  get  her 
her  hat  and  coat. 

"You  wear  very  good  clothes,  Miss  Vann,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Long.    "That's  a  splendid  hat  you  have." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"Yes,  it  must  have  cost  a  bonny  penny."  Mrs.  Burdett 
thought  of  the  hat  Henry  had  bought  her  years  ago. 

"You  know  I'm  in  the  business,  Mrs.  Long,  and  it  would 
hardly  do  for  me  to  wear  anything  but  what's  up-to-date;  be- 
sides, I  have  to  dress  well  when  I  go  in  society,  as  I  have  to. 
Some  of  our  wealthy  patrons  invite  me  out  occasionally,  and 
I  have  to  be  stylish,  it's  necessary;  most  people  judge  your 
worth  by  the  clothes  you  wear.  I  am  a  kind  of  a  shop  figure,'' 
laughing,  "just  like  a  tailor's  dummy.  I  see  you  do  some  dress- 
making, Mrs.  Burdett." 

"Yes,  miss." 

"Where  do  vou  buy  your  goods  ?" 

Mrs.  Burdett  told  her. 

"W^ell,  when  you  want  any  more,  come  and  see  me.  I  may 
be  able  to  get  you  inside  prices ;  but  I  must  be  going.  I  won- 
der if  I  can  find  my  way  to  the  car?" 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Florence. 

"No,  girl,  3'ou'd  better  stay  at  home ;  maybe  that  big  uncle 
of  yours  would  show  me." 

Herman  was  only  too  glad  of  the  opportunity.  When  he 
returned,  his  sister  and  Mrs.  Long  joked  him  about  her.  "I 
think  you  made  an  impression  on  her,  Herman,"  said  Mrs. 
Long. 

"If  you  had  only  heard  them  talking  Dutch  together  in  the 
garden  you  would  have  thought  so."  remarked  her  husband. 

Herman  laughed  as  he  said  he  thought  she  was  "all  right." 

"How  much  salary  has  she,  Florence?"  inquired  Mrs.  Long. 

"I  hear  she  has  two  thousand  a  year." 

Long  whistled.    "She'd  be  a  catch  for  you,  Herman." 


324  FLORENCE    BURDETT   ENTERS    SOCIETY 

Herman  smiled. 

Mrs.  Long  remarked,  "She's  a  ^ood  sensible  woman,  and 
full  of  life." 

The  remark  of  Miss  Vann's  as  to  the  necessity  of  people  in 
her  line  wearing-  good  clothes,  and  their  improved  circum- 
stances, prompted  Mrs.  Burdett  in  encouraging  her  daughter 
to  dress  well,  something  to  which  Florence's  natural  vanity  led 
her  to  give  a  willing  ear ;  so  in  a  few  months,  as  far  as  clothes 
went,  she  was  a  fitting  companion  for  her  superior. 

Miss  ^^ann  frequently  took  her  to  supper  with  her,  and  in- 
troduced her  to  a  number  of  swell  people  of  both  sexes.  She 
occasionally  took  her  to  her  rooms.  "I  was  out  with  Miss 
Vann  this  evening,"  was  always  a  sufficient  excuse.  Should 
Mr.  Shapiro  happen  to  call  during  any  of  her  visits  to  the  Vann 
establishment,  she  had  the  good  sense  to  know  her  room  was 
preferable  to  her  company  ;  not  that  Miss  Vann  was  any  way 
particular — it  was  on  account  of  Shapiro,  who  showed  em- 
barrassment when  Mary  had  company.  Florence  surmised  her 
relationship  with  Shapiro.  She  in  turn  knew  Florence's  secret, 
so  there  was  a  mutual  understanding  without  any  necessary 
explanation. 

Amongst  the  gay  set  with  which  they  met,  many  of  the 
young  sports  began  to  show  special  attention  to  Florence. 

"Beware,  my  girl,"  Mary  said  on  one  occasion,  "don't  make 
any  dates  with  any  of  those  fellows,  and  if  you  do,  see  that  you 
don't  keep  them.  Their  papas  and  mamas  would  be  adverse 
to  their  forming  a  lasting  alliance  with  a  shop  girl,  though  you 
are  a  great  deal  better  than  any  of  them.  They're  all  a  pack 
of  young  profligates." 

One  evening  shortly  after  Easter,  Miss  A'ann  had  just  taken 
seats  at  the  Burk  Hotel,  a  swell  restaurant  in  those  days,  when 
two  well  dressed  men  came  walking  up  the  passage  way  be- 
tween the  tables.    One  of  them  in  passing  noticed  Miss  Vann, 

"Good  evening,  Mary,"  coming  forward  and  placing  his 
hand  on  her  shoulder  in  a  very  familiar  manner. 

"Hello,  Mortell.  how  are  you?" 

"So,  so." 

"How's  business?" 


FLORENCE    BURDETT    ENTERS    SOCIETY  325 

"We've  had  a  very  good  Easter,  but,  as  usual,  I  suppose  you 
monopolized  most  of  the  millinery." 

Mary  laughed.  "Well,  we  did  our  share.  Mr.  Prairie,  let  me 
introduce  you  to  Miss  Burdett,  my  assistant."  Mr.  Prairie 
and  Miss  Burdett  bowed. 

"Miss  Vann,  Alderman  Great,  Miss  Burdett."  The  alder- 
man and  Florence  exchanged  looks.  The  recognition  was 
mutual,  though  they  had  never  met  since  the  night  of  the  dance 
of  the  Five  Jolly  Boys.  Florence  tried  hard  to  keep  her  com- 
posure. The  alderman,  however,  was  familiar  with  the  most 
interesting  episode  in  her  past  life.  He  had  learned  it  from 
Hart  and  Hooligan,  particularly  so  when  he  tried  to  stand  be- 
tween justice  and  his  constituent  at  the  time  Herman  Wosta 
had  taken  out  the  warrant. 

"May  we  sit  beside  you.  Miss  Vann  ?"  inquired  Mortell, 
smiling  at  her. 

"This  is  a  public  restaurant,  I  don't  see  how  I'm  going  to 
stop  you." 

The  two  men  took  the  two  vacant  chairs,  the  table  being  ar- 
ranged for  four. 

"Have  you  ladies  ordered  yet?"  inquired  Prairie,  picking  up 
the  bill  of  fare. 

"No,  we  have  just  sat  down." 

"Here,  waiter,"  shouted  Mortell.- 

"In  a  minute,  sir." 

"I  think  Fm  going  to  have  lobster,  alderman." 

"How  unnatural  of  you."  said  Mary,  turning  to  him. 

"How  so?" 

"Why,  feasting  on  one  of  your  own  kind,  one  lobster  eating 
another." 

The  alderman  laughed  heartily.  Florence  had  to  stuff  her 
handkerchief  in  her  mouth  to  suppress  her  mirth. 

"There  you  go  again,"  retorted  Mortell,  "you  never  loss  an 
opportunity  to  take  a  shot  at  me." 

"Well,  that's  because  I  love  you." 

"You  do,  in  my  eye!  Miss  Burdett,  you  select  for  yourself; 
pay  no  attention  to  IVIiss  Vann." 

"She'd  better  take  lobster,  too,"  said  Mary,  laughing. 


326  FLORENCE    BURDETT    ENTERS   SOCIETY 

"Why,  you  don't  mean  to  insinuate  that  Miss  Burdett  is  of 
the  same  species  as  Mortell,  I  hope,"  said  the  alderman, 
laughing. 

"O  dear,  no !  Well,  let  us  both  have  lobster."  continued 
Mary,  "we'll  all  be  lobsters  for  this  occasion,  just  to  show  Mr. 
Prairie  we're  not  discriminating  against  him." 

"Make  it  all  lobster."  said  the  alderman  to  the  waiter,  "and 
put  a  bottle  of  White  Seal  on  ice." 

During  the  supper  the  alderman  chatted  sociably  with  Flor- 
ence, never  making  the  slightest  allusion  to  having  ever  seen 
her  before.  The  champagne  was  served,  they  all  drank  their 
share  of  it. 

"We're  going  to  McV'icker's  after  supper,"  remarked  Mor- 
tell to  Mary,  "McCullough  is  there." 

"Perhaps  the  ladies  would  go  along?"  suggested  the  alder- 
man, in  an  ofif-hand  manner. 

Florence  looked  at  Miss  Vann. 

"I  would  be  afraid  to  be  seen  with  you,  Mr.  Prairie,"  said 
Miss  Vann,  archly,  "for  fear  of  losing  my  character." 

"Or  of  Shapiro  seeing  you,  which?"  retorted  Mortell. 

"O,  there's  no  danger  of  that,  he's  in  New  York.  Would 
you  like  to  go,  Florence?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  would  be  out  too  late." 

"Well,  your  mother  knows  you're  going  to  take  supper  with 
me  this  evening,  doesn't  she?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  then,  we'll  go." 

"I'd  better  go  and  secure  the  seats,"  remarked  the  alderman, 
rising.  He  returned  in  a  few  m.inutes  and  announced  that  it 
was  all  right. 

"Mary,  might  I  claim  your  indulgence  while  I  smoke?" 
said  Mortell,  looking  at  her  appealingly. 

"You  may,  if  you  promise  not  to  blow  the  smoke  into  my 
face." 

"Thank  you;  have  you  any  objection,  Miss  Burdett?" 

"No,  sir." 

Mortell  Prairie  handed  his  cigar  case  to  the  alderman;  they 
both  lit  cigars. 


FLORENCK    BURDETT    ENTERS    SOCIETY  127 

"It's  about  eight  o'clock,"  remarked  the  alderman,  after  they 
had  smoked  some  time,  "we  should  be  going."  The  waiter 
was  summoned,  Mortell  offered  to  pay  the  bill. 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  alderman,  pulling  out  a  large  roll 
and  tendering  the  waiter  a  twenty.  The  waiter  gave  him  his 
change  and  received  a  liberal  tip.  "We  may  drop  in  after  the 
theatre,  see ;  reserve  a  table  for  us." 

"All  right,  alderman,  I'll  attend  to  it." 

Florence  was  surprised  to  find  herself  sitting  in  a  box  seat 
right  beside  the  stage.  She  looked  at  the  audience  and  found 
that  many  were  gazing  at  her,  some  with  opera  glasses,  and 
felt  embarrassed. 

McCullougb  was  at  his  best.  The  audience  rose  in  applause 
at  the  conclusion  of  every  act.  The  magnificent  personator  of 
Bulwer  Lytton's  splendid  character,  "Richelieu,"  had  to  appear 
frequently  before  the  curtain.  The  enthusiasm  was  contagious. 
Florence  was  delighted,  as  she  listened  attentively  to  the  alder- 
man's praise  of  the  powerful  tragedian.  At  the  close  of  one  of 
the  acts  the  alderman  signaled  one  of  the  caterers,  who  was 
vending  candies,  and  bought  the  largest  box  of  chocolate  bon- 
bons he  had  in  his  basket  and  gave  them  to  Florence,  who 
thanked  him,  then  handed  them  to  Miss  Vann  to  open. 

At  the  end  of  the  play,  as  the  curtain  was  being  lowered,  the 
audience  rose  en  masse,  cheering  and  clapping  of  hands  could 
be  heard  from  all  parts  of  the  house.  McCullough  had  to 
come  and  bow  his  acknowledgment  four  times  before  the  ladies 
began  to  look  for  their  wraps. 

"Splendid,"  said  Florence. 

"I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  a  good  deal,"  remarked  Miss 
Vann. 

The  alderman  held  Florence's  coat  while  she  placed  her  arms 
in  it.     Mr.  Prairie  devoted  his  attention  to  Miss  Vann. 

Reaching  the  exit  from  the  theatre  the  alderman  said,  "Now 
we  must  go  and  have  a  little  lunch." 

"I  am  afraid  it's  too  late,"  said  Florence,  looking  over  at 
her  superior. 

"You  might  as  well  be  hung  for  a  sheep  as  a  lamb,"  replied 
Miss  Vann,  jokingly,  to  her,  "you  can  lay  the  blame  on  me." 


328  FLORENCE    BVRDETT    ENTERS    SOCIETY 

The  four  walked  towards  the  restaurant,  'Sir.  Prairie  and 
Miss  \'ann  leading  tlie  way,  the  alderman  and  ]\Iiss  Burdett 
following,  the  alderman  chatting  to  her  as  they  w^alked  along; 
when  they  got  to  the  restaurant  it  was  crowded  by  people  from 
the  theatre.  The  waiter,  who  had  been  on  the  lookout  for 
them,  seeing  them  come  in,  said,  "This  way,  alderman,"  and 
led  them  to  a  table  where  four  chairs  were  so  placed  as  to 
indicate  the  table  was  reserved. 

Supper  was  ordered,  including  a  bottle  of  White  Seal.  Sup- 
per concluded,  Florence  showed  her  impatience  to  go  home. 

"Yes,  it's  time  we  were  going,"  said  Miss  Vann,  "we  have 
to  go  to  work  in  the  morning,  you  sports  can  stay  up  all  night." 

"You're  very  much  afraid,"  said  Mortell,  smiling,  "you  prob- 
ably think  Shapiro  wall  fire  you.     I  wish  he  would." 

"Why,  would  you  give  me  a  job  if  I  got  the  bounce?" 

"You  bet,  Mary." 

"Well,  if  we  have  to  part,"  said  the  alderman,  "I'll  order  a 
carriage."  He  called  the  waiter,  who,  after  a  few  minutes, 
announced  the  carriage  was  outside.  The  two  gentlemen  con- 
ducted the  two  ladies  to  the  conveyance.  When  they  were 
seated,  ]\'Ir.  Prairie  said,  looking  into  the  vehicle,  "May  I  see 
you  home?" 

"Not  if  I  know  it." 

Orders  were  given  to  the  coachman  to  take  Miss  Vann  to 
her  residence  and  then  to  take  Miss  Burdett  home. 

"What's  your  fare?"  inquired  the  alderman.  The  driver 
was  paid  in  advance,  with  a  dollar  extra  for  himself. 

"That's  a  splendid  girl,"  remarked  Mortell,  addressing  the 
alderman. 

"Yes,  I've  met  her  before." 

"You  don't  say?    Why,  I  thought  you  didn't  know  her." 

The  alderman  smiled,  wdthout  making  any  reply. 

"Where  now^  ?"  asked  the  alderman. 

"Let's  go  over  to  Carrie's,"  w^as  Mortell's  reply,  and  the  two 
gentlemen  w^alked  in  the  direction  of  South  Clark  street. 


Chapter  XXXIV 


A  QUIET  WEDDING 


The  wedding  of  Michael  Scully  and  Yirgie  Monroe  was  set 
for  the  first  Monday  in  May. 

Mr.  Monroe  wanted  to  make  it  a  great  event — he  was  going 
to  make  enough  preparations  to  entertain  all  Montana. 

Scully  appealed  to  him  not  to  do  it.  "Let  us  have  a  quiet 
wedding,"  he  said,  "and  then  after  a  time  we  will  entertain  all 
our  friends." 

"You're  a  great  deal  too  modest,  Mike,  you'll  become  un- 
popular ;  they'll  say  you're  shabby." 

Scully  won  his  affianced  over  to  his  way  of  thinking. 

"You  can  give  your  women  friends  a  grand  reception  in  the 
near  future,  Virgie,  in  which  we'll  all  take  part." 

The  ranchers  were  all  expectancy — they  knew  Monroe  was 
a  good  entertainer  and  looked  forward  to  having  a  good  time. 

Mike  explained  to  the  men  on  the  ranch  his  desire  for  a  quiet 
wedding,  "I  hope  you'll  not  think  me  mean,  boys.  I  promise 
you  before  the  summer  is  over,  I'll  give  you  the  time  of  your 
lives." 

"All  right,  Mike,"  responded  Jerry  Smith,  "we'll  see  that 
you  have  a  nice  quiet  affair."  He  looked  at  Stone,  and  closed 
one  eye,  as  he  gave  acquiescence  to  Mike's  plans. 

All  preparations  had  been  made  for  the  wedding,  a  number 
of  presents  had  been  sent  to  the  bride,  the  most  costly  of  which 
had  been  sent  by  young  Bronson,  who  had  agreed  to  stand  up 
with  Mike,  and  as  he  had  shown  good  conduct  for  some  time  it 
was  very  agreeable  to  Miss  Monroe.  Stringer's  daughter, 
Suzanna,  was  going  lo  act  as  bridesmaid,  and  as  it  was  going 
to  be  a  quiet  afifair,  only  a  few  friends  had  been  invited — not 
much  preparation  was  necessary. 

What  with  looking  after  his  attire,  and  paying  attention  to 
his  fiancee,  Mike  didn't  spend  much  time  on  the  range  previous 
to  the  event.     He  had  heard  that  a  few  of  the  cattle  in  one  of 

«29 


330  A  QUIET   WEDDING 

the  herds  had  strayed,  but  Jerry  Smith  had  sent  men  in  all 
directions  to  round  them  up. 

Randal  had  called  over  to  the  homestead  to  congratulate 
the  young  couple,  and  had  been  seen  two  or  three  times  over 
at  the  men's  quarters  in  consultation  with  Smith,  Stone  or 
Shanks.  To  this  no  attention  was  paid,  it  was  assumed  they 
were  talking  stock, 

Scully  happened  to  meet  Smith  on  the  Friday  previous  to 
the  wedding. 

"Did  you  find  the  cattle  yet,  Jerry  ?" 

"No,  sir,  not  yet," 

"They  surely  must  have  strayed  a  long  way,  or  you  would 
have  found  them  before  this," 

"They've  got  in  amongst  the  foothills  somewhere — we'll  find 
them," 

"Well,  if  I  hadn't  an  important  engagement  in  the  near 
future,  which  I  cannot  neglect,  I  would  turn  out  and  help  you 
to  locate  them," 

"O,  you  never  mind,  sir,  I  have  Stone,  Shanks  and  a  num- 
ber of  our  boys  out  looking.  They'll  round  them  up,"  He  smiled, 
as  he  made  this  assertion. 

"Well,  I'll  be  at  your  service  on  Tuesday,"  remarked  Mike, 
as  he  left  the  foreman  of  the  Monroe  Ranch, 

The  wedding  was  to  take  place  immediately  after  high  mass, 
which  was  to  be  sung  for  the  occasion.  An  early  start  had  to 
be  made.  Monroe,  his  daughter,  Scully  and  Mrs.  Randal, 
with  George  driving,  formed  the  bridal  party.  Bronson,  Miss 
Stringer  and  three  other  friends  met  them  at  the  church,  A 
number  of  the  boys  gathered  around  and  wished  them  good 
luck, 

"Glad  is  the  bride  the  sun  shines  on" — if  true,  'twas  a  happy 
day  for  Miss  Monroe,  for  the  weather  was  ideal,  as  were  the 
spirits  of  all  concerned. 

The  mass  over,  the  bride  approached  the  altar  on  the  arm 
of  her  father,  Scully,  Bronson  and  Miss  Stringer  following. 
There  could  be  heard  outside  just  at  this  moment  the  report 
of  three  shots  in  succession — nothing  to  create  surprise  in  this 
part  of  the  country,  but  immediately  following  could  be  seen 


A  QUIET   WEDDING  331 

groups  of  horsemen  coming  from  every  direction.  Those  from 
a  distance  coming  at  a  gallop,  every  hill,  bluff  and  barn  seemed 
to  have  furnished  a  contingent,  one  of  which  was  in  full  Indian 
garb,  even  to  the  warpaint  and  feathers ;  they  had  blankets 
and  rugs  on  them ;  they  were  fully  armed,  having  rifles  and 
shotguns  and  tomahawks.  The  church  was  surrounded  b\ 
hundreds  of  them.  Where  they  came  from  was  a  mystery ; 
the  Ku  Klux  organization  had  never  in  all  its  dreaded  career 
prepared  a  raid  so  skillfully  and  with  less  noise,  or  in  such 
numbers. 

Big  Chief  held  up  his  hands,  and  made  gestures  to  all  pres- 
ent to  keep  quiet. 

His  reverence  had  tied  the  knot  securely,  and  had  given  the 
couple  his  blessing.  Mike  had  turned  and  given  his  arm  to 
the  bride,  preparatory  to  leaving  the  church.  All  was  solemn 
and  still  within  the  sacred  edifice,  except  the  whispering  of 
those  who  had  come  to  view  the  ceremony. 

Scully  and  his  bride  had  taken  but  a  few  steps  from  the 
altar  rail  when  they  heard  a  roar  of  musketry. 

"Some  of  the  boys  are  on  hand,  I  hear,"  said  Monroe,  smil- 
ing. Mrs.  Scully  shared  in  her  father's  opinion.  She  had 
some  idea  what  to  expect.  Bronson  and  Miss  Stringer  could 
hardly  hide  their  merriment  until  they  got  out  of  the  church. 
Mike  had  to  laugh,  he  knew  they  had  prepared  a  surprise  for 
him.  The  firing  was  incessant,  the  smell  and  smoke  from  the 
powder  was  intense,  and  as  the  bridal  party  reached  the  door  of 
the  church,  what  met  ]\Iike's  gaze  was  fifty  painted  savages ; 
in  the  rear  of  them  some  three  or  four  hundred  men  on  horse- 
back were  still  shooting  as  fast  as  they  could  load  and  pull  the 
triggers  of  their  guns. 

Monroe's  conveyance  stood  ready  to  receive  its  burden.  Six 
of  the  painted  savages,  which  it  was  afterward  learned  was 
of  the  Randal  tribe,  surrounded  Mike  and  separated  him  from 
his  wife. 

"Ugh,"  said  Big  Chief,  "pale  face  prisoner."  Mike  looked 
up  at  the  warrior  who  was  on  horseback  and  couldn't  dis- 
tinguish him  from  the  real  thing.  (One  of  the  savages  was 
seen  leading  a  horse  to  the  front.     ]\[ike  recognized  it  at  a 


332  A  QUIET   WEDDING 

glance  as  Hercules,  and  before  he  had  time  to  object,  his  six 
captors  had  lifted  him  bodily  into  the  saddle. 

"Won't  you  let  me  go  with  my  wife?"  said  Mike,  appeal- 
ingl}'. 

"Ugh,  pale  face  prisoner,"  grunted  Big  Chief. 

The  six  warriors  who  had  lifted  him  on  to  his  horse  shook 
their  tomahawks  in  a  menacing  manner. 

Mike  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  conveyance  and  saw  his 
wife  convulsed  with  laughter.  Her  father  was  standing  up 
surveying  the  crowd,  the  Indians  who  were  not  mounted  were 
dancing  a  war  dance  and  shouting  the  Sioux  war-cry,  the  cow- 
boys kept  yelling  and  firing  their  guns. 

Mike  looked  around  and  saw  Bronson  at  the  head  of  a  troop, 
different  in  appearance.  They  were  men  from  the  mines.  He 
was  surprised  to  see  Miss  Stringer  and  Mrs.  Randal  also 
mounted  and  a  fair  contingent  of  cowgirls  on  their  stafif. 

Big  Chief  gave  the  signal  to  his  warriors  who  were  not 
mounted  to  get  into  their  saddles.  They  gave  a  final  war- 
whoop,  discharging  all  the  guns  that  were  still  loaded.  Big 
Chief  took  his  position  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  and  the 
march  commenced  to  the  happy  hunting  grounds,  where  he 
promised  his  warriors  there  were  plenty  of  maidens,  eating 
and  drinking,  and  some  fire-water. 

Scully  looked  back  again  at  his  wife,  who  nodded  her  ap- 
proval. She  looked  supremely  happy  and  was  fully  enjoying 
the  occasion ;  he  himself  had  long  since  entered  into  the  fun. 

The  entire  cavalcade  started  for  the  Monroe  ranch.  When 
they  reached  the  house  it  was  found  that  ample  preparations 
had  been  made  for  a  feast.  Big  Chief  had  fulfilled  his  promise. 
There  was  abundance  to  eat  and  drink  and  a  number  of  fair 
maidens  to  entertain  the  warriors,  and  participate  in  the  fes- 
tivities. The  large  room  at  the  men's  quarters  had  been  cleared 
.of  its  furniture.  Three  musicians  were  on  hand  to  furnish 
music. 

Scully  and  his  wife  entered  fully  into  the  enjoyment  of  the 
occasion.  Monroe,  Stringer,  and  a  number  of  the  old-timers 
drank  the  health  of  the  young  couple  so  often,  that  they  lost 
all  count. 


A  QUIET   WEDDING  333 

The  festivities  were  carried  on  until  late  in  the  night — every 
one  claimed  that  Mike  Scully's  quiet  wedding  was  the  noisiest 
ever  held  in  the  West,  that  it  was  a  howling  success,  and  that 
Big  Chief  Randal  was  a  credit  to  his  tribe. 

The  morning  after,  Mrs.  Michael  Scully  sat  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  just  as  she  did  when  Virgie  Monroe,  her  husband 
on  her  left,  her  father  on  her  right,  Mrs.  Thompson  next  to 
him.  It  was  the  family  circle.  The  men  on  the  ranch  kept 
discreetly  away. 

The  great  event  of  the  previous  day  seemed  to  have  made 
no  change — it  wasn't  even  referred  to. 

Virgie  Monroe,  the  happy  maid,  was  now  the  happ}-  matron. 
Michael  Scully  felt  that  the  world  was  his,  as  he  stole  glances 
at  his  handsome  wife — he  saw  in  her  the  presiding  genius  of 
his  happy  future. 

"You  don't  look  well  this  morning,"  ^'irgie  said,  addressing 
her  father. 

"I  have  a  frightful  headache." 

"I  thought  you  would  have,"  remarked  Mrs.  Thompson,  "so 
have  some  good  strong  tea  prepared  for  you." 

"Look  who's  coming!"  cried  Monroe.  The  four  looked  in 
the  direction  of  the  approach  to  the  house,  and  saw  Stephen 
Stringer  and  Emil  Rolofif  crossing  the  lawn.  As  soon  as  they 
reached  the  dining-room,  Monroe  determined  to  fire  the  first 
shot. 

"Look  here.  Steve  Stringer,  I'm  going  to  cut  your  ac- 
quaintance." 

"I  wish  you  would,  I'd  been  at  home  in  good  time  last  night 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  and  here's  Emil,  I  suppose  he's  afraid 
to  go  home." 

"Why,  what  happened  him?  I'm  not  so  much  surprised  at 
you,  Steve.  Emil,  I'm  kind  of  astonished  at  you,  but  T  charge 
it  up  to  the  company  you  keep,"  looking  at  Stringer. 

"Well,"  replied  Stringer,  "I've  been  keeping  your  company 
for  the  past  twenty  years,  so  any  bad  habits  I  have  I  learned 
from  you.  O,  good  morning,  Mrs.  Scully — I  nearly  forgot 
my  good  manners." 

Virgie's   face  colored  as   she   bowed  her   acknowledgment, 


334  A  gilK'J    WEDDING 

then  looked  at  her  husband,  with  whom  she  exchanged  smiles. 

"Sit  down,  Roloff,  and  you,  too,  Steve.    I  forgive  you.'" 

"You  forgive  me?  I  don't  think  I'll  ever  forgive  you."  He 
sat  down,  and  looked  around  the  table  as  if  something  was 
missing. 

"He's  looking  for  a  little  medicine,  Mrs.  Thompson,"  said 
Monroe,  grinning.  "Do  you  think  you  should  prescribe  a 
small  dose  for  him?" 

"I  have  some  very  good  tea  here,  Mr.  Stringer."  said  the 
housekeeper,  smiling. 

"I  don't  think  it  would  stay  on  my  stomach  this  morning,  if 
I  hadn't  something  to  allay  the  fever  in  advance,  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son." 

The  colored  boy  who  was  serving  at  table  had  a  large  sized 
grin  on  his  countenance. 

"You  know  what's  good,  George,"  said  Stringer,  turning  to 
him. 

Mrs.  Thompson  nodded  to  George,  who  went  out  and  re- 
turned with  a  bottle  of  whisky. 

"If  I  had  as  much  as  you  had  last  night,"  said  Monroe, 
looking  at  Stringer,  "I  wouldn't  look  at  it  for  a  month." 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that,  Rolofif,  did  you  ever 
hear  the  like?"  filling  his  tumbler  half  full,  and  then  helping 
Roloff. 

"I  think  I'll  take  a  little  of  that  myself,"  said  Monroe. 

"You  will?"  said  Stringer,  looking  at  him,  "I'm  ashamed  of 
you,"  as  he  put  the  glass  to  his  mouth  and  took  it  down  with  a 
gulp,  Roloff  following  his  example. 

"What  happened  you  last  night  after  I  left  you?"  inquired 
Monroe. 

"After  you  left  me !  after  you  were  led  away,  you  mean ! 
Well  the  last  thing  I  remember  was  Bronson." 

"What  happened  him?"  inquired  Mrs.  Scully,  eagerly. 

"Why,  he  was  talking  fight ;  he  said  he  had  ten  thousand 
dollars  to  put  up  that  your  husband  could  lick  John  L. 
Sullivan." 

"I  didn't  think  Bronson  was  an  enemy  of  mine,"  said  Mike, 
laughing. 


A  QUIET   WEDDING  335 

"O,  he  meant  it,"  chimed  in  Roloff,  "and  the  crowd  that  was 
around  him  seem.ed  all  to  agree  with  him." 

"I  am  afraid  he's  fallen  from  grace,"  remarked  Mrs.  Scully. 

"That's  no  name  for  it,"  replied  Stringer, "he  wsls  mortalius." 

"I  hope  he  set  Suzanna  home,"  she  continued. 

"I  guess  not;  if  there  was  any  setting  home,  she  set  him 
home." 

"He  hadn't  touched  a  drop  for  over  a  year  before,"  re- 
marked Roloff,  "but  he  vowed  he  would  get  full  last  night  if 
it  was  the  last  thing  he  did  in  life,  and  he  kept  his  word." 

"O,  Bronson's  all  right,"  chimed  in  Monroe,  "he's  as  good 
as  they  make  'em ;  but  what  happened  to  Big  Chief  ?"  grinning 
at  Mike,  as  he  inquired. 

"His  squaw  took  him  away  early ;  he  was  pretty  good  at  the 
time,  though.  I  think  I'll  take  a  little  more  of  this,  and  then, 
perhaps,  I  can  take  a  little  of  your  tea,  Mrs.  Thompson.  Roloflf, 
you'll  take  some?" 

Monroe  handed  his  glass  across,  Stringer  looked  hard  at 
him,  Scully  and  his  wife  laughed.  Stringer  handed  the  bot- 
tle to  Monroe. 

"Well,  Mike,  we  gave  you  a  good  set  off,  anyway,  and  those 
events  don't  come  very  often.  I  wish  you  every  joy,  you  both 
have  lots  of  friends. 

"It  was  the  biggest  thing  ever  come  off  in  Montana,"  re- 
marked Roloff,  enthusiastically,  "and  everybody  was  good- 
natured." 

"It  was  a  quiet  wedding,"  remarked  Monroe,  looking  over 
at  his  daughter. 

"It  was  a  great  surprise  to  me,"  said  Mike.  "Randal,  Smith, 
Stone,  and  Shanks  worked  it  well.  Smith  had  a  lot  of  our  fel- 
lows out  hunting  up  stray  cattle,  but  I  know  now  it  was  round- 
ing up  the  boys  and  girls  he  was." 

George  was  chuckling  behind  Scully's  chair. 

"And  you,  you  son  of  a  gun,  you  were  in  on  it,  too,  I  sup- 
pose?" said  Monroe,  looking  over  at  George,  who  nodded  his 
head. 

"Well,  I  must  go  home  and  take  my  boots  off,"  said  String- 
er, rising. 


336  A  QUIET   WEDDING 

"Why,  did  you  sleep  in  them  last  night.  Stephen?"  inquired 
Monroe. 

"Sure !  and  so  did  Emil.  and  he's  a  deacon  of  his  church." 

"Oh,  Roloft'!  Roloff!  you  see  what  keeping  bad  company 
does!"  said  Monroe,  shaking  his  head. 

"Come,  Emil,"  said  Stringer,  rising,  "let  us  be  going;  we'll 
have  to  face  the  music  anyway,  so  the  sooner  the  better.  Good- 
bye, old  man ;  good-bye,  Mrs.  Scully  and  Mrs.  Thompson. 
Mike,  when  you're  coming  over  our  way  look  in;  and  bring 
the  mississ  with  you." 

Mike  promised  he  w^ould. 

A  week  after  the  wedding  Monroe  summoned  Smith,  Stone 
and  Shanks  into  his  office.  "Sit  down,  gentlemen,  I" have  an  an- 
nouncement to  make."  He  touched  his  bell,  George  answered 
it.  "Tell  Mrs.  Scully  to  come  in."  When  she  arrived  he  told 
her  to  take  a  seat.  She  looked  at  him  in  expectation.  "What 
I  want  to  say  to  you  fellows  is  this:  I've  worked  hard  for 
upwards  of  forty  years  in  New  York  City  and  out  here  in 
Montana,  and  I'm  going  to  pitch  up  the  job.  I  don't  intend  to 
do  a  darned  thing  in  the  future,  only  to  loaf  and  enjoy  life." 

"Why,  you're  surely  not  going  to  desert  us,  father  ?"  smiling 
at  him. 

"No,  but  in  the  future  you  and  Mike  will  have  to  run  the 
ranch ;  I've  done  my  share,  and  I'm  through." 

"Oh,  father,  you're  only  talking;  you  know  you'll  never  be 
through." 

"Well,  if  my  advice  is  asked,  I  may  give  it,  but  that's  all ; 
now  we'll  take  a  drink  on  the  head  of  it.  You  tell  your  hus- 
band my  decision,  and  in  the  future  you  fellows  will  take  in- 
.structions  from  Mr.  Scully." 

When  Mrs.  Scully  told  her  husband  that  evening,  Mike 
laughed,  "We'll  do  the  best  we  can,  Virgie,  but  as  long  as  your 
father's  spared  to  us  he'll  be  the  boss." 


Chapter  XXXV 
Florence's  progress  in  society 

"Florence,  what  did  your  mother  say  when  you  got  home 
last  night?" 

"She  didn't  say  much,  but  I  could  see  that  she  wasn't  pleased, 
she  was  waiting  up  for  me.  I  told  her  that  after  you  had  taken 
me  to  supper  you  took  me  to  the  theatre  ;  then  she  was  satisfied ; 
I  began  to  tell  her  how  grand  it  was,  and  she  became  interested. 
She  asked  me  if  there  was  any  bad  woman  in  the  play,  like 
'Camille,'  and  I  told  her  no,  but  a  very  splendid  woman,  and 
how  the  Cardinal  protected  her  against  the  bad  man.  'O,'  she 
said,  'I  would  have  liked  to  seen  that.'  " 

"You  didn't  tell  her  of  the  two  nice  gentlemen  that  we  had 
with  us?" 

"No,  I  never  mentioned  them.  Is  that  Mr.  Mortell  Prairie 
the  son  of  the  man  who  owns  the  department  store  ?" 

"Yes,  that's  he." 

"He  seems  a  very  nice  gentleman." 

"Yes,  Flo,  he  is  very  nice,  especially  to  the  ladies.  In  fact, 
he  is  quite  a  ladies'  man.  He's  recently  from  Europe,  where 
his  father  sent  him  to  get  experience  after  he  left  Yale.  He 
got  the  experience,  which  cost  his  father  a  good  round  sum; 
wherever  he  went  he  left  a  carmine  streak  behind  him.  In 
Paris  he  was  a  shining  light  for  a  time,  until  he  had  some  mis- 
understanding with  a  woman's  husband,  who  challenged  him 
to  fight  a  duel.  Mortell  preferred  a  foot  race,  so  left  Paris  in 
a  hurry.  Then  he  went  to  Monte  Carlo  and  hoped  that  the 
excitement  of  the  gambling  table  would  enable  him  to  forget 
the  many  other  attractions  he  had  forsaken  in  Paris,  London, 
and  elsewhere,  but  at  length  his  many  calls  on  his  loving  papa's 
purse  so  exasperated  the  old  man  that  he  cabled  Mortell  some 
finances  and  peremptory  instructions  to  take  the  next  boat 
home,  saying,  This  is  final.' 

"In  this  the  old  man  was  mistaken,  as  he  found  out  by  the 


338  FLORENCE'S    PROGRESS    IN    SOCIETY 

next  mail  that  his  young  hopeful  was  in  pledge,  and  that  if  he 
sent  no  money  his  son  and  heir  might  have  to  stay  there  in- 
definitely, so  he  sent  to  his  agent  in  Paris  to  pay  his  bills,  and 
then  ship  him.  When  he  got  home  his  father  determined  he 
would  make  him  work  for  a  living,  so  he  made  him  vice-presi- 
dent of  the  concern,  which  enables  Alortell  to  draw  a  salary 
he  never  earns,  but  as  old  Prairie  is  at  the  store  every  day  in 
the  year  it  is  open,  Mortell's  job  is  a  sinecure." 

"You  seem  to  be  very  friendly  with  him?" 

"Yes,  he  knows  I  know  him." 

"He  and  the  alderman  seem  to  be  companions." 

"No,  nothing  of  the  kind.  They  meet  occasionally — yois 
see,  old  Prairie,  besides  being  a  merchant,  is  a  large  stock- 
holder in  many  of  the  public  utilities,  and  as  the  alderman  is 
always  on  the  same  side  as  Prairie  senior,  the  young  man  pays 
court  to  the  alderman  under  the  impression  he  is  pushing  the 
good  work  along. 

"Do  you  know,  Miss  Vann,  I  met  the  alderman  before?" 

"No!  you  don't  say  so;  where?" 

"At  the  dance  where  I  was,  he  led  the  grand  march  and 
bought  champagne  for  Hart,  while  we  were  at  the  supper." 

"He  knew  Hart,  then?" 

"Yes,  quite  well." 

Miss  Vann  seemed  to  lapse  into  a  study.  Customers  came 
in,  so  the  conversation  had  to  be  dropped. 

About  a  month  later  Miss  Florence  Burdett  was  walking 
leisurely  along  toward  where  she  would  take  the  car  for  home, 
when  she  saw  the  alderman  approaching.  Her  acquaintance 
with  him  had  been  so  brief,  that  it  was  her  intention  to  pass 
him  unnoticed. 

"Good  evening.  Miss  Burdett." 

"Good  evening,  sir." 

As  the  alderman  stood,  common  courtesy  required  her  to 
stand  and  speak  to  him. 

"That  was  a  very  pleasant  evening  we  spent  together," 
smiling,  "I  enjoyed  the  show  very  much.     Did  you?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  thought  it  was  very  fine." 

"Do  you  enjoy  going  to  the  theatre?" 


FLORENCE'S    PROGRESS    IN    SOCIETY  339 

"Yes,  I  like  to  go,  I  have  only  been  twice." 

"Indeed !  well,  you  see  Miss  Burdett,  my  official  position 
enables  me  to  get  complimentary  tickets ;  so  if  you  will  ac- 
cept them,  I  would  only  be  too  happy  to  send  you  some." 

"That  would  be  very  kind  of  you." 

"You  can  take  your  young  man  with  you." 

She  laughingly  remarked  that  she  had  no  young  man. 

"Well,  that's  not  right,"  jokingly,  "but  you  can  hardly  blame 
me  if  I  doubt  your  word.  I  see  you  are  in  a  hurry  to  go,  so 
will  bid  you  good  evening.  Give  Miss  V^ann  my  regards  when 
you  see  her." 

The  following  week  a  note  arrived  at  the  Cleveland  store  ad- 
dressed to  Miss  Florence  Burdett.  On  opening  it  she  found  it 
contained  two  reserved  seat  tickets  for  Hooley's,  with  the  brief- 
est of  notes,  the  compliments  of  Alderman  Great. 

Florence  showed  them  to  Miss  Vann,  who  remarked,  "You 
must  have  made  some  impression  on  him,  Flo." 

Florence  laughed  at  the  idea. 

Two  weeks  afterward  Florence  was  somewhat  surprised  to 
receive  another  note,  in  which,  on  opening,  she  found  two 
tickets  for  McVicker's,  with  the  compliments  of  the  alderman, 
with  a  line  hoping  that  she  enjoyed  the  performance  at 
Hooley's.  As  she  had  not  seen  the  alderman  to  thank  him  for 
those  he  had  previously  sent,  she  felt  somewhat  diffident  as 
to  what  to  think  about  it.  On  showing  them  to  Miss  Vann 
that  lady  remarked : 

"Didn't  I  tell  you,  you  made  an  impression  on  him?" 

"Why,  he's  a  married  man,"  said  Florence,  laughing,  "what 
would  he  want  with  me?" 

"Why,  you  silly  goose,  do  you  think  that  makes  any  differ- 
ence with  him?  He's  like  most  of  the  married  men,  he  enjoys 
flirting  a  bit  with  the  girls." 

Florence's  thoughts  reverted  to  Shapiro,  so  was  silent. 

Florence  told  her  mother  that  one  of  the  patrons  of  the  store 
had  sent  her  the  tickets  and  that  she  was  going  to  ofifer  them 
to  Herman.  Herman  called  the  next  evening  and  Florence 
presented  him  with  the  two  tickets,  explaining  to  him  that  this 
act  of  courtesy  in  sending  tickets  to  the  heads  of  the  depart- 


340  Florence's  i'rogress  in  society 

ments  was  quite  common,  that  Miss  Vann  not  only  received 
tickets  to  the  theatre,  but  even  presents  of  jewelry,  as  well. 

Herman  didn't  know  anything  to  the  contrary,  so  took  it  for 
granted. 

Miss  Vann,  while  out  to  dinner  one  day,  happened  to  run 
across  Mortell  Prairie. 

"How  do,  Mary !" 

"O,  how  are  you,  Mortell !" 

"Going  to  eat?" 

"Yes." 

"May  I  have  the  honor?" 

"No,  I'm  going  to  the  'Noon-day  Rest.'  " 

"O,  I  see ;  where,  while  eating  lunch,  you  can  discuss  all  the 
prominent  scandals.  Ha,  ha,  pretty  good  of  you,  Mary.  By 
the  way,  how  is  your  young  friend,  the  girl  that  was  at  the 
theatre  with  us?" 

"She's  all  right;  why  do  you  ask?" 

"The  alderman  and  I  were  talking  about  her.  It  seems  he 
knows  her." 

"Well,  he  knows  nothing  wrong  about  her,  does  he?" 

"Oh,  no,  he  only  said  he  met  her  before,  and  that  she  was  a 
splendid  girl.  You  should  say  a  word  or  two  for  me  to  her, 
Mary." 

"Get  out !  Get  out !  What  would  she  want  with  a  roue  like 
you?  Besides,  is  there  not  enough  young  women  in  your 
father's  seraglio  to  help  you  to  spend  your  money  ?" 

"Well,  Mary,  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do ;  we'll  get  up  a  little 
theatre  party  some  night,  if  you're  willing.  The  girl  enjoys 
the  show  and  as  she'll  be  chaperoned  by  you,  I  know  you  will 
be  able  to  take  care  of  her." 

"You  bet!" 

"Well,  is  it  a  go?" 

"I'll  see ;  good-bye,  I  must  be  going." 

Two  weeks  later  Miss  Vann  received  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Mortell  Prairie  informing  her  that  Alderman  Great  and  him- 
self desired  herself  and  friend  to  accompany  them  to  the  grand 
opera  on  the  opening  night. 

"Should  they  be  favored,  they  would  dine  at  Burk's  at  six- 


Florence's  progress  i.\  society  341 

thirty,  where  the  alderman  and  myself  will  await  your  coming. 
Hoping  for  a  favorable  reply,  yours  very  truly,  Mortell  Prairie. 

"P.  S. — Please  signify  your  intentions  by  placing  note  in 
enclosed  envelope." 

"What  do  you  think  of  this,  Flo?"  she  said,  handing  her 
the  note. 

Florence  didn't  know  what  to  think.  "I  never  was  at  the 
opera,"  she  said. 

"Well,  if  you  would  like  to  go,  say  so.    I  have  no  objections." 

"Then  we'll  go,  but  mind  I  musn't  stay  out  too  late,  mother 
always  sits  up  for  me.  I  can  tell  her  I  am  going  with  you,  and 
that  some  one  has  presented  you  with  the  tickets." 

"We'll  have  to  dress  pretty  swell,  little  girl,  if  we  go,  for  it's 
to  be  a  great  occasion,  and  our  two  gentlemen  friends  will  be 
in  evening  dress." 

"Then  Fd  better  not  go ;  you  know  my  best  would  look 
shabby  in  such  fine  company." 

"Well,  they  have  given  us  plenty  of  notice,  it's  not  until  a 
week  from  Monday — that's  nine  days,  and  I  will  help  you  out. 
Go  tell  Madam  Gervaise  that  I  want  to  see  her." 

Madam  Gervaise  was  head  of  the  dressmaking  department. 
When  she  arrived,  Miss  Vann  said,  "Madam  Gervaise,  I  want 
you  to  make  a  dress  for  Miss  Burdett.  It  must  be  ready 
against  this  day  week,  and  I  want  you  to  do  your  very  best." 

"I  will  only  be  too  happy,  Miss  Vann ;  what  kind  of  a  dress 
does  the  young  lady  require?" 

"One  for  state  occasions.  We  are  going  to  the  grand  opera 
Monday  week,  and  I  want  her  to  look  as  well  as  any  other 
young  woman  in  the  assembly,"  smiling  at  Florence  as  she 
made  the  remark. 

"Then  it  must  be  decollette." 

"O,  no,"  remarked  Florence,  "I  never  could  wear  one  of 
them." 

"Why,  girl !"  said  Madam,  "you  have  a  splendid  figure," 
placing  her  hand  on  Florence's  shoulder,  "you  would  look 
charming." 

"Don't  make  it  too  low,  Madam  Gervaise,  you  see  Florence 
never  wore  a  low-cut  dress,  and  probably  would  seem  some- 


342  Florence's  progress  in  society 

what  awkward  if  too  much  of  her  bust  was  exposed.  Let  it 
be  medium ;  you  know  what  we  want." 

Florence  asked  Miss  Vann  what  she  thought  it  would  cost. 

"Never  mind  that  now,  we  will  talk  of  that  after,  when  we 
see  the  goods;  go  over  and  let  her  measure  you.  I'm. going 
to  wear  black,  you'll  have  white,  emblematic  of  purity,"  smil- 
ing at  Florence,  whose  face  flushed  at  the  allusion. 

Florence,  when  she  came  back  after  being  measured,  again 
inquired  what  Miss  Vann  thought  the  dress  would  cost. 

"Well,  to  a  regular  customer  about  one  hundred  dollars; 
to  you  about  fifty." 

"O,  dear  me,  I  will  never  be  able  to  pay  for  it." 

"Yes,  you  will,  my  credit  is  good  here." 

Mary  Vann  had  notified  Mr,  Prairie  of  her  acceptance  of 
the  invitation. 

Florence  told  her  mother  of  the  proposal  Miss  Vann  had 
given  her  to  attend  the  grand  opera  on  the  opening  night, 

"I  am  afraid,  Florence,  your  clothes  are  not  good  enough 
to  go.  You  know  it's  different  with  Miss  Vann,  she  has  a  very 
good  income,  and  has  lots  of  stylish  dresses,  nobody  but  her- 
self to  look  after.     If  I  had  the  money  it  would  be  different." 

"If  the  firm  would  trust  me  for  a  dress,  mamma,  would  you 
let  me  order  one?" 

"I  don't  like  to  go  into  debt,  but  if  it  wasn't  too  costly  we 
might  be  able  to  pay  for  it." 

"You  know,  ma,  since  you  began  to  trade  with  the  store  you 
get  things  much  cheaper." 

"Yes,  Miss  Vann  was  very  good,  in  getting  me  wholesale 
prices." 

"I'm  sure  Madam  Gervaise  would  make  me  something  really 
swell,  as  she  is  a  great  friend  of  Miss  Vann's." 

"Well,  then,  order  one,  but  be  sure  and  tell  Miss  Vann  our 
circumstances  before  you  order  it,  so  that  she  will  not  be  dis- 
appointed." 

The  dress  was  of  white  satin.  Madam  Gervaise  had  de- 
termined to  excel  any  of  her  previous  efiforts.  It  was  not  so 
much  to  please  Florence  as  to  please  Miss  Vann,  whom  she 
knew  was  influential  in  the  firm. 


Florence's  progress  in  society  343 

Florence  thought  it  was  too  low  in  the  neck,  Madam  Gervaise 
protested  it  was  too  high,  Miss  V'ann  said  it  was  just  right. 
Florence  had  to  admit  it  was  splendid. 

"But  what  will  mother  think  of  it?"  she  said,  looking  at  Miss 
Vann. 

"Why,  you're  a  woman  now,  and  must  dress  as  women  do. 
Wait  till  3'ou  see  some  of  the  fashionable  girls  with  their 
scraggy  shoulders  exposed  at  the  opera,  you'll  begin  to  think 
your  dress  is  not  in  fashion." 

Florence  resolved  to  tell  her  mother  all  about  the  dress  be- 
fore she  brought  it  home,  so  on  the  Friday  evening  before  the 
opera,  while  at  supper,  she  said,  "Mother,  my  dress  is  made, 
and  it's  splendid,  but  I  think  it's  a  little  too  low  cut  in  the 
shoulders.  I  told  Madam  (iervaise  that,  but  she  said  it  was  not 
low  enough." 

"What  did  Miss  Vann  say  about  it?" 

"She  said  it  was  just  right,  a  httle  too  high  if  anything." 

"Probably  it's  the  fashion." 

"But  mother,  it's  grand,  of  beautiful  white  satin,  and  fits  me 
like  a  glove.  Fm  going  to  bring  it  home  tomorrow  evening  and 
then  you  can  see  for  yourself." 

When  Mrs.  Burdett  saw  the  dress  she  could  but  admire  the 
material,  trimmings,  and  workmanship.  "Those  French  dress- 
makers are  very  clever,  but,  Florence,'  it  is  low  in  the  neck. 
Try  it  on." 

Florence  put  the  dress  on ;  it  showed  a  good  portion  of  her 
shapely  shoulders,  though  not  near  as  much  as  some  Mrs. 
Burdett  had  noticed  as  worn  by  many  of  the  women  she  had 
seen  when  Florence  had  taken  her  to  the  theatre.  Besides, 
many  of  them  were  thin  and  shrunken,  while  Florence's  figure 
was  well  rounded.  Her  mother  felt  too  much  pride  in  her  as 
she  stood  before  her  to  criticise  harshly  anything  she  wore. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  ma?" 

"It's  very  fine,  but  if  it  was  a  little  higher  in  the  shoulders, 
I  would  have  liked  it  better.  You'll  have  to  have  a  pair  of  long 
gloves  to  wear  with  it,  or  your  arms  would  look  too  bare,  and 
you  may  have  to  wear  something  around  your  neck;  possibly 
that  will  make  the  difference." 


344  Florence's  progress  in  society 

"Yes,  ma.  a  few  strings  of  pearls,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"Well,  put  it  away  carefully,  and  don't  get  any  creases  in  it — 
with  care  it  will  last  you  on  many  occasions." 

The  afternoon  on  which  the  grand  opera  season  was  to  open, 
Miss  \'ann  came  over  to  where  Florence  was  standing.  She 
had  an  opera  cloak  on  her  arm.  "Try  this  on,  Florence,  I  have 
borrowed  it  for  you  for  the  evening.  There  will  be  few  at  the 
show  tonight  that  will  have  one  to  equal  it."  Madam  Gervaise 
came  over  while  Florence  had  it  on. 

"Beautiful!  magnificent!  superb."  she  exclaimed. 

Florence  looked  admiringly  at  herself  in  the  glass, 

"Now,  go  down  and  get  your  gloves,  see  that  you  get  the 
best.  Madam,  you  go  with  her,  tell  them  to  send  the  ticket 
to  me." 

Madam  Gervaise  selected  the  gloves  for  her,  they  came  above 
her  elbows.  "You're  sure  they're  all  right,  Madam  Gervaise," 
said  Mary,  when  Florence  and  Madam  returned. 

"Yes.  miss !  beautiful  I  magnificent !  superb."  Madam 
Gervaise  wasn't  very  proficient  in  the  English  language,  so 
invariably  used  the  same  terms  in  praise  of  everything. 

About  three  o'clock  a  messenger  boy  brought  a  note  to  Miss 
Vann.     It  read: 

"My  Dear  Mary : — I  hope  you  and  your  friend  will  not  dis- 
appoint us,  everything  is  arranged.  I  have  ordered  a  car- 
riage at  Payn's  that  awaits  your  orders.  There  is  also  a  box 
of  American  Beauties,  which,  on  inspection,  you  will  admit  are 
a  proper  accompaniment  for  two  American  beauties  like  you 
and  your  friend  (this  is  no  joke).  Payn's  people  will  keep 
them  in  good  shape  and  place  them  in  your  carriage.  See  that 
they're  there.  Will  be  at  the  restaurant  at  six-thirty  to  await 
your  coming.     Don't  be  late. — M.  P." 

Florence's  dress  had  been  brought  back  to  the  store,  as  the 
two  women  were  going  to  Miss  Vann's  to  prepare  their  toilets. 

Miss  Vann  notified  Mr.  Morris  Cohen  that  she  and  Florence 
would  leave  the  store  a  little  earlier  that  evening.  "If  Mr. 
Shapiro  comes  around  you  can  tell  him." 

"Shapiro  left  an  hour  ago,  miss,  and  said  he  wouldn't  be 


Florence's  progress  in  society  345 

back,  so  it's  all  right ;  there'll  be  little  doing  anyhow  after  five 
o'clock,  and  Miss  Jones  and  I  can  attend  to  it,  I  will  get  her 
help  if  she  needs  it." 

"Thank  you,  Morris,  I'll  not  forget  you." 

A  little  before  five  o'clock  Miss  Vann  went  to  the  phone  and 
telephoned  to  Payn's  to  send  the  carriage  to  the  Cleveland 
store,  to  have  it  there  by  five,  and  not  to  forget  to  place  the  box 
of  flowers,  they  had  there,  in  it. 

Miss  Vann  devoted  twice  the  time  to  Miss  Burdett's  toilet 
that  she  gave  to  her  own.  She  put  a  little  powder  on  Flor- 
ence's arms,  shoulders  and  neck,  not  enough  to  be  discernible, 
a  little  rouge  on  her  cheeks,  not  that  this  was  necessary,  as  the 
bloom  of  youth  was  on  them. 

"Florence,  you  know  we  are  going  there  to  be  seen,  as  well 
as  to  see.  So  a  little  art  is  justifiable  when  we  think  it  im- 
proves nature.  I  would  share  my  jewelry  with  you,  only  you 
look  so  much  better  without  them,"  as  she  placed  her  diamond 
earrings  in  her  ears,  fastened  her  necklace  around  her  neck 
and  put  her  rings  on  her  fingers, 

"Now,  don't  you  think  my  dress  is  a  little  too  low  cut?"  re- 
marked Florence,  looking  in  the  glass  as  Miss  Vann  was 
helping  her  on  with  her  opera  cloak, 

"Not  a  bit,  girl,  there  won't  be  a  Johnny  there  tonight  that 
wouldn't  want  to  feast  his  eyes  on  your  beautiful  shoulders, 
and  who  wouldn't  wish  your  dress  wasn't  a  great  deal  lower." 

Florence  could  not  help  but  smile. 

It  was  just  six-forty-five  when  the  two  ladies  arrived  at  the 
restaurant.  The  gentlemen  had  been  waiting  over  a  half  hour. 
Miss  Vann  was  in  black,  her  dress  a  silk  brocade.  She  had  a 
rose  in  her  hair,  and  carried  a  cluster  on  her  arm.  Miss 
Burdett,  dressed  in  white,  had  three  of  the  smaller  American 
Beauties  pinned  on  her  breast,  one  neatly  arranged  amongst 
her  beautiful  tresses  and  a  number  with  long  stems  on  her  arm. 

Alderman  Great  looked  with  admiration  he  could  not  dis- 
guise when  he  saw  Florence.  He  felt  he  could  leave  his  happy 
home  for  her — no  novelty,  as  he  had  frequently  left  his  home 
before. 

"Miss  Burdett,  I  cannot  but  compliment  you  on  your  looks," 


546  Florence's  progress  in  society 

he  said,  as  he  helped  her  off  with  her  cloak.  "You  look 
charming." 

She  smiled  her  acknowledgment  of  the  compliment  he  paid 
her. 

"Well,  Mary,  I  never  saw  you  look  so  spruce,"  remarked 
Mortell. 

"Now,  don't  begin  to  flatter  me,"  replied  Miss  Vann,  as  she 
brought  her  fan  across  his  cheek.  "I  know  you  of  old,  Mortell, 
you  have  said  more  than  that  to  a  thousand  women  in  your 
brief  career." 

"Yes,  but  I  mean  it  to  you." 

"Get  out !  Let  us  have  something  to  eat.  I  have  ordered  the 
carriage  to  wait  for  us." 

"Plenty  of  time ;  waiter,  tell  the  driver  of  Miss  Vann's  car- 
riage to  come  back  in  one  hour." 

"Yes,  alderman," 

During  the  supper  Alderman  Great  devoted  all  his  attention 
to  Florence,  who  thanked  him  for  the  tickets  he  sent  her. 

"I'm  sure  I  enjoyed  the  treat." 

"Not  more  so  than  I  did.  Miss,  when  I  saw  you  there,  though 
on  one  occasion  I  didn't  notice  you  as  being  present." 

"Oh,  no,  the  last  two  tickets  you  sent  me  I  couldn't  go,  so 
I  gave  them  to  my  uncle." 

"Open  this  wine,"  said  the  alderman  to  the  waiter,  who  was 
standing  close  by. 

"Do  you  think  I  should  drink  any  before  I  go?"  said  Flor- 
ence, looking  inquiringly  at  Miss  Vann. 

"One  glass  won't  do  you  any  harm,"  replied  the  alderman, 
smiling  at  her.  The  alderman  touched  his  glass  to  hers  as  she 
was  about  to  lift  it  to  her  lips. 

They  had  a  box  seat  at  the  Auditorium,  close  to  the  stage. 

"What  do  you  think  of  these.  Miss  Vann  ?"  inquired  Mortell, 
as  he  was  assisting  her  off  with  her  cloak. 

"They  couldn't  be  better,  you  must  have  spoken  in  advance." 

"I  didn't  speak  at  all ;  it's  the  alderman  we  are  indebted  to." 

Miss  Vann  bowed  and  smiled  to  the  alderman. 

As  the  alderman  assisted  Florence  off  with  her  cloak,  in 
spite  of  Miss  Vann's  and  Madam  Gervaise's  opinion,  she  felt 


Florence's  progress  in  society  347 

a  sense  of  nakedness.  She  was  soon  reassured,  however,  when 
she  looked  at  many  of  the  women  in  the  audience,  whose  decol- 
lette  dresses,  V-shaped  in  the  back,  were  cut  nearly  to  the  waist 
line,  over  their  arms  mere  bands  instead  of  sleeves,  and  in  front 
a  more  than  liberal  part  of  their  bust  exposed. 

Many  eyes  were  cast  in  the  direction  of  the  box  in  which 
Florence  and  her  friends  sat.  She  looked  towards  the  stage  so 
as  not  to  observe  their  gaze.  "Florence,"  whispered  Miss 
Vann^  "look  a-long  the  fourth  row  of  seats  in  the  parquet ;  wait 
a  moment ;  they're  looking  at  us.  There's  the  boss  and  Shapiro 
and  their  wives.  That  scraggy  old-fashioned  Jewess  is  Mrs. 
Shapiro.  Now  look,  they  have  seen  us,  and  are  no  doubt  talk- 
ing about  us."  As  Florence  looked  in  the  direction,  Mr.  Shapiro 
looked  straight  at  her,  while  the  boss  adjusted  his  glasses  to 
get  a  better  focus  on  Mary  Vann  and  her  party. 

It  was  Italian  opera,  the  great  Signor  Trimarco  was  imper- 
sonating William  Tell,  supported  by  the  greatest  artists  on  the 
American  stage ;  Florence  was  enraptured,  though  she  couldn't 
understand  a  word  they  sung. 

Mortell  and  Miss  Vann  kept  up  a  whispering  conversation 
by  themselves  which  gave  Alderman  Great  opportunity  to  de- 
vote his  whole  attention  to  Miss  Burdett.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  opera  they  returned  to  the  restaurant  for  supper.  Flor- 
ence had  enjoyed  the  afYair  immensely.  She  began  to  recognize 
the  opportunity  wealth  opened  to  enjoyment.  The  alderman 
was  full  of  spirits,  as  was  Mary  and  her  partner.  Champagne 
was  ordered  and  drunk  freely,  Mary  Vann  began  to  get  a  little 
hilarious  and  guyed  Mortell  unmercifully,  even  referring  to 
some  of  his  escapades  while  in  Europe ;  he  took  it  all  good- 
naturedly.  Florence  began  to  feel  dizzy,  she  spoke  of  going 
home. 

"Plenty  of  time,"  said  the  alderman,  squeezing  her  hand,  "we 
don't  meet  often." 

"I'm  going  home,"  said  Mary  Vann,  rising  abruptly,  "it's 
near  two  o'clock." 

"Sit  down,"  said  Mortell,  catching  her  by  the  hand. 

"No,  we're  going ;  order  our  carriage." 

"Yes,  I  want  to  go,  I  don't  feel  well,"  cried  Florence. 


348  Florence's  progress  ix  society 

"Waiter." 

"Yes,  miss." 

"Call  up  Payn's  and  tell  them  to  send  a  carriage  over ;  to  Mr. 
Mortell  Prairie's  account." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  carriage  was  announced. 

"When  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  again?"  the 
alderman  whispered  into  Miss  Burdett's  ear  as  he  was  con- 
ducting her  to  the  conveyance. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  replied,  as  she  fell  into  the  seat. 

He  held  her  hand  and  squeezed  it  as  he  bid  her  good  night. 

It  was  about  a  month  afterward,  Florence  was  going  to  her 
lunch  when  she  met  the  alderman. 

"How  do  you  do.  Miss  Burdett?    Where  are  you  going?" 

"I  am  going  to  get  my  lunch." 

"Well,  that  is  pleasing  news,  I'm  thinking  about  having  some 
lunch,  too:  what  say  you  if  you  join  me?" 

"No,  thank  you.  Mr.  Great,  I  haven't  much  time." 

"It  won't  take  you  longer  in  one  place  than  in  another.  Here 
is  a  first-class  restaurant  within  a  few  doors ;  come  along." 

Florence  hesitated  for  a  second,  but  remembering  the  alder- 
man's friendship  and  gentlemanly  conduct,  she  accompanied 
him. 

When  he  had  ordered  for  himself  and  her,  "I  have  not  seen 
you  since  the  night  we  were  at  the  opera;  how  did  you  get 
home?"  said  he. 

"All  right;  only  it  was  by  far  too  late  for  me  to  be  out." 

"I  guess  it  was.  Do  you  know  I  was  somewhat  under  the 
weather  the  next  day  ?    I  am  afraid  I  ate  too  much." 

"Or  drank  too  much,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"Well,  that's  probably  so,  but  I  never  spent  a  better  evening. 
Do  you  know,  Florence — you'll  excuse  me  for  calling  you  by 
your  first  name — you  looked  beautiful  that  night?" 

"I'm  afraid  you  flatter  me,  alderman." 

"No.  no !  I  mean  it.  Commence  on  your  lunch ;  you  haven't 
much  time.     How  is  Miss  Vann?" 

"She's  quite  well,  she  didn't  put  in  appearance  the  morning 
after  we  were  at  the  opera  till  near  noon,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"Perhaps  she  ate  too  much,  too,"  smiling  at  his  guest. 


FLORENCE'S    I'ROGRESS    IN    SOCIETY  349 

"Do  you  know.  I  wasn't  well  either?" 

"Is  that  so?  It  seems  as  if  we  all  ate  too  much,  as  Mortell 
told  me  the  next  time  T  saw  him  he  had  been  sick.  Would  you 
like  anything-  to  drink.  Florence?" 

"No.  thank  you." 

"Well,  eat  a  hearty  dinner.  Waiter,  bring  this  young  lady 
some  strawberries  and  a  dish  of  ice  cream." 

"I  have  eaten  enough,  never  mind." 

"O,  go  on,  make  a  meal  of  it.  You  have  plenty  of  time — do 
you  want  me  to  send  you  some  theatre  tickets?  Perhaps  you 
or  some  of  your  friends  could  use  them." 

"If  it  was  no  inconvenience  to  you,  or  no  expense,  I  would 
be  pleased  to  have  them." 

When  they  were  about  to  leave  the  alderman  took  her  hand, 
holding  it  and  looking  her  in  the  face  said,  "When  may  I  see 
you  again?" 

She  held  her  eyes  down  as  she  replied,  "You  are  a  married 
man,  Mr.  Great.  Do  you  think  it  proper  that  I  should  meet 
you  except  in  the  company  of  others?" 

This  reply  and  question  staggered  him  for  a  moment,  he 
was  lost  for  an  answer. 

"We  have  met  three  times,"  looking  at  her  closely,  "and 
there's  been  no  impropriety." 

She  remembered  four  times,  and  felt  pleased  at  his  ignorance. 
The  first  time  was  stamped  on  her  memory,  never  to  be  obliter- 
ated. She  thought  from  his  expression  he  had  failed  to  rec- 
ognize her  as  the  girl  whom  he  had  seen  with  Hart. 

"How  long  could  such  relationship  as  we  have  had,  exist 
without  your  getting  tired  of  me,  or  of  me  losing  my  good 
name  ?" 

"Now,  Miss  Burdett,  I  begin  to  think  you  misunderstand 
me." 

"1  hope  I  do,  but  I  am  afraid  not.    I  must  be  going." 

"Well,  I'll  send  you  the  tickets,  anyway.  I  hope  youVe  not 
mad  at  me  '" 

"No.  Mr.  Great,  I  appreciate  your  friendship,  and  hope  to 
continue  it,"  she  extended  her  hand  to  him,  he  grasped  it,  she 
bid  him  good-day. 


Chapter  XXXVI 

MONROE  TOWNSHIP 

A  few  days  after  Monroe's  announcement  that  he  was  going 
to  retire,  Scully  had  the  foremen  come  to  the  office.  "You 
know,"  he  commenced,  "the  old  man  has  thrown  the  entire  re- 
sponsibility of  the  management  of  the  ranch  on  me,  and  I  feel 
I  am  hardly  equal  to  the  task,  so  will  have  to  rely  on  your  co- 
operation ;  so  I  propose  we  meet  here  occasionally  and  talk 
matters  over,  and  that  you  come  prepared  to  make  suggestions." 

"Well,  everything's  all  right  at  present,"  remarked  Smith. 

"I  know  that;  let  us  see  that  we  keep  them  right.  There's 
one  thing  I've  been  thinking  over.  I  thought  I'd  ask  your' 
opinion ;  we  have  the  best  stock  in  Montana — that  can't  be  dis- 
puted, but  I  have  noticed  that  with  the  rapidly  increasing 
population  in  the  neighboring  states  there  is  a  great  demand 
for  horses  suitable  for  farming  purposes.  What  would  you 
think  if  we  tried  to  raise  some  for  that  market  ?" 

"An  excellent  idea,"  said  Shanks ;  "Mr.  Monroe  favored 
raising  thoroughbreds,  they  paid  well,  he  made  lots  of  money 
out  of  them ;  but  if  we  had  a  good  Percheron,  or  English  stal- 
lion, we  have  plenty  of  brood  mares,  and  there's  a  barrel  of 
money  in  it." 

"You'd  sell  them  faster  than  you  could  raise  them,"  remarked 
Stone. 

"But  remember,"  said  Smith,  smiling,  "nothing  goes  with 
the  old  man  but  the  best." 

"That's  my  idea,  too,"  replied  Scully,  "I'll  see  him  about  it." 

When  he  mentioned  it  to  Monroe,  Monroe  told  him  to  go 
ahead. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Mike,  smiling,  "you'll  see  about  getting  a 
horse  for  us?    You  know  I'm  not  a  very  good  judge." 

"Opportunity  oft  makes  the  man."  It  proved  to  be  the  case 
with  Mike  Scully.  Energetic  and  industrious,  the  afifairs  on 
the  Monroe  ranch  were  properlv  attended  to,  every  innovation 

350 


MONROE    TOWNSHIP  351 

Mike  introduced  proved  a  success.  He  invariably  consulted 
his  father-in-law,  to  be  always  met  with  the  same  answer, 
"Well,  Mike,  if  you  think  it  will  work,  go  ahead." 

As  February  approached,  a  close  watch  was  kept  around  the 
Monroe  homestead,  for  the  coming  of  a  big  bird  with  very  long 
leg?  and  an  extended  beak. 

Old  Doctor  Gibbs  had  been  installed  in  the  house  as  part  of 
a  reception  committee.  Monroe  wanted  to  secure  a  profes- 
sional nurse,  and  was  somewhat  displeased  with  Mrs.  Thomp- 
son when  she  attempted  to  dissuade  him  from  it. 

"Mrs.  Randal  will  be  with  us,"  she  said,  to  the  old  man,  "and 
we  can  take  good  care  of  Virgie,"  as  she  still  called  her. 

Monroe,  however,  consulted  Doctor  Gibbs  about  the  matter, 
who  told  him  he  need  have  no  anxiety.  "Everything  is  all 
right — don't  worry." 

Mike  attended  to  his  work  as  usual,  only  he  called  at  the 
house  more  frequently  during  the  day. 

Mrs.  Thompson  told  him  if  anything  happened  while  he  was 
out  on  the  range,  she  would  have  George  raise  the  flag.  Well, 
one  day  Mike  was  out  distributing  fodder  to  the  cattle,  when 
Smith  shouted,  "Look.  Mike!"  Mike  wheeled  around  with  a 
jerk,  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  house.  He  saw  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  floating  in  the  breeze ;  he  jumped  to  his  horse, 
unloosed  him  from  where  he  was  tethefed,  vaulted  into  the  sad- 
dle, saying,  "Now,  boy,  let  me  see  how  you  can  go."  He  was 
off  at  a  gallop;  reaching  the  house,  he  ran  into  the  kitchen, 
where  he  found  Mrs.  Thompson  swathing  a  fair-sized  piece  of 
humanity,  considering  his  age,  in  flannels.  Monroe  was  stand- 
ing over  her,  feasting  his  eyes  on  the  new  arrival. 

"Well,  he's  come,"  said  Monroe,  extending  his  hand  to 
Mike,  "and  he's  all  right." 

"A  very  fine  boy,"  remarked  Mrs.  Thompson. 

"Do  you  think  I  might  go  upstairs  ?"  inquired  Mike. 

"Sure!  go  up,"  advised  Mrs.  Thompson. 

Mike  went  up  and  knocked  gently  at  the  door.    "Come  in." 

He  found  Doctor  Gibbs  and  ATrs.  Randal  round  the  bed 
where  his  wife  lay ;  he  went  and  kissed  her.  she  placed  her 
arm  around  his  neck  and  looked  lovingly  up  into  his  face. 


352  MONROE  TOWNSHIP 

"How  is  she,  doctor?" 

"Splendid !  couldn't  be  better." 

Mike  said  something  below  his  breath,  which  we  surmise 
was,  "Thank  God!" 

"I'll  stay  around  the  house,  today,"  he  whispered  to  his  wife. 

"Do,  I  might  want  you." 

A  week  from  that  day  Mrs.  Scully  was  up  nursing  her  baby. 
Mike  had  forestalled  lier  before  she  could  suggest  a  name  for 
the  child.     "We'll  call  him  John  Monroe  Scully,''  he  said. 

Her  father  wanted  to  install  a  nurse  right  away. 

"No,  my  mother  nursed  me,  and  I'll  nurse  him." 

"That's  right,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  who  was  listening. 

"And  I'll  help,"  chimed  in  George,  who  happened  to  be  there 
at  the  time.     So  Monroe  had  to  drop  the  matter. 

"Now,  Mike,"  said  Monroe  to  him  one  day,  "you  had  your 
own  way,  or  thought  you  were  going  to  have,  at  the  wedding, 
but  I'll  be  darned  if  you'll  have  anything  to  do  about  the 
christening.     This  is  going  to  be  my  turn." 

And  so  it  was. 

Father  Chadwick  came  to  the  house  on  the  Sunday  after- 
noon that  the  baby  was  to  be  baptized,  and  all  Montana  was 
welcome.  "Yes,  even  if  Black  Jack  Murry  comes,  I'll  oflfer 
no  objection."  said  Monroe,  talking  the  matter  over  with 
Randal,  Smith,  Stone,  and  Shanks,  who  were  on  the  committee 
of  arrangements.     Needless  to  say  it  was  a  big  affair. 

The  christening  of  young  John  Monroe  Scully  was  some- 
thing to  be  remembered. 

A  few  days  before  Christmas  the  same  year  that  Mike's  first 
baby  was  born,  Father  Chadwick  rode  over  to  make  a  friendly 
call  on  Monroe  and  his  family.  He  was  always  a  welcome 
guest.  After  supper  Monroe,  Scully  and  his  wife  were  seated 
in  the  parlor,  his  reverence  was  talking  of  the  paucity  of  his 
congregation,  how  few  Catholics  there  were  in  that  section  of 
the  country.  "Our  people,"  remarked  his  reverence,  "are 
mostly  Germans  and  Swedes.  What  English  speaking  people 
we  have  are  mostly  of  English  extraction.  You're  an  Irish- 
man, Mr.  Scully  ?"  he  remarked,  turning  to  Mike. 

"Well,  hardly,  I  was  born  in  Chicago;  both  my  father  and 


MONROE    TOWNSHIP  353 

mother  were  born  in  Ireland,  however,  and,  of  course,  I  claim 
to  be  Irish,  too." 

"They're  a  grand  people,"  said  Chadwick,  "I  wish  we  had 
more  of  them  out  here." 

'"You're  thinking  of  donations,"  said  Monroe,  joking  him. 

"Well,  that  aniongst  other  matters,  but  the  most  important, 
they  are  all  true  to  the  faith." 

"Only  some  of  them,"  said  Mike,  breaking  in,  "what  of  the 
Orangemen  ?" 

"Oh,  they're  the  Scotch-Irish — I  don't  count  them." 

"Why,  some  of  the  Scotch  held  true  to  the  faith,  even  in  the 
worst  days  of  persecution,"  remarked  Monroe. 

"Yes,  they  were  the  Highlanders.  They  were  pure  Celtic, 
anyhow ;  for  that  matter  many  of  the  staunchest  supporters  of 
our  religion  are  English  people.  Those  are  exceptions,  but  the 
Irish,  as  a  whole,  were  ever  faithful." 

"What  will  you  call  my  son  when  he  grows  up?"  said  Mrs. 
Scully,  smiling  at  his  reverence. 

"I  haven't  a  bit  of  fear  for  him,"  replied  his  reverence,  look- 
ing over  at  the  boy  Mrs.  Scully  was  dandling  on  her  knee,  "he's 
what  your  father  would  call  of  a  good  stock,  and  there's  no 
fear  of  his  education  being  neglected." 

"Not  if  I  know  it,"  said  Monroe,  proudly,  looking  over  at 
his  grandson,  "that's  my  boy." 

Scully  and  his  wife  exchanged  looks — they  knew  the  old 
man's  heart  and  soul  was  in  the  youngster. 

"What  I  can't  understand,"  continued  Chadwick,  "is  how  the 
Irish  people,  coming  as  they  did  from  a  purely  agricultural 
country,  didn't  seek  farms  instead  of  staying  in  the  large  cities." 

"Perhaps  that  was  owing  to  their  poverty,"  remarked 
Monroe,  "you  see  they  were  poor  when  they  landed  at  New 
York,  or  Boston,  and  had  to  seek  work  right  away." 

"Yes,  but  even  after  they  had  money,  they  still  stayed  in  the 
cities." 

"Mavbe  the  church  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it,"  said 
Scully.' 

"How  was  that?"  inquired  Mrs.  Scully,  looking  at  her  hus- 
band. 


354  MONROE   TOWNSHIP 

"Well,  you  see  the  people  of  Ireland  are  very  devout.  I 
have  heard  my  mother  say  that  the  man  or  woman,  in  the  town 
in  Ireland  she  came  from,  who  wouldn't  go  regularly  to  mass, 
would  be  looked  upon  as  a  pagan,  the  neighbors  would  think 
it  unlucky  to  associate  with  them.  Having  this  feeling,  those 
who  came,  especially  the  women,  wouldn't  go  where  they 
wouldn't  be  able  to  attend  mass  on  a  Sunday,  thought  they 
might  die,  perhaps,  without  an  opportunity  to  receive  the  rites 
of  their  church.  I  know  my  mother  wouldn't;  and  she  was  a 
fairly  sensible  woman." 

"I  believe  that  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it,"  said  Monroe. 

"No  doubt,"  replied  his  reverence. 

One  day  Scully  was  doing  some  figuring  in  his  office,  when 
his  wife  came  in  with  the  baby.  Mike  took  it  from  her,  fond- 
ling him  for  a  time.  The  boy  now  began  to  lisp  a  few  words 
and  showed  a  desire  to  walk  around  his  chair,  to  his  father's 
delight,  "Virgie,  I  wonder  when  this  youngster  gets  a  little 
older,  whom  he  will  have  for  companions." 

"Why,  you  and  me  and  his  grandfather,  to  be  sure." 

"Do  you  think  that  sufficient  ?  When  I  was  a  boy  I  had  other 
boys  to  play  with." 

"You  were  brought  up  in  a  big  city ;  look  at  me,  I  had  no 
girl  companions  until  I  went  to  school." 

"You  never  missed  them,  perhaps,  girls  are  not  like  boys — 
they  want  companionship.  When  we  grow  up  it  is  different. 
You're  all  the  companion  I  want.  I  wish  we  had  some  respect- 
able neighbors,  who  had  children ;  I'm  looking  to  the  future, 
not  for  our  sakes,  but  for  his." 

"It  would  probably  be  better,  but  you  know  here  it's  impos- 
sible. My  father  would  never  leave  this  place,  and  you  and 
me  and  his  grandchild  are  all  he  has." 

"No,  nor  will  I  ever  leave  it.  This  is  our  home,  here  we  are 
supremely  happy ;  but  I  have  been  thinking  over  a  matter.  I 
want  your  opinion.  You  see,  the  surrounding  country  is 
rapidly  filling  up,  villages  are  being  organized,  great  numbers 
are  seeking  homes  in  the  West.  We  out  here  are  comparatively 
isolated.  Land  is  increasing  in  value,  the  very  large  area  we 
possess  prevents  settlers  from  coming  near  us.    We  have  fifty 


MONROE    TOWNSHIP  355 

thousand  acres.  I  think  a  part  of  that  should  be  thrown  open 
for  settlement,  if  only,  say.  three  thousand  acres,  which  would 
still  leave  us  forty-seven  thousand,  which  is  much  more  than 
we  will  ever  require." 

"You  mean  to  sell  some  of  it  to  settlers  ?" 

"Yes,  under  conditions,  but  not  an  acre  to  speculators." 

"Why  don't  yoli  talk  to  father  about  it?" 

"I  thought  I  would  consult  you  first." 

"I  think  it's  a  good  idea ;  but  first  you  should  draw  up  a 
comprehensive  plan." 

Mike  spoke  to  Monroe,  who  told  him  to  go  ahead.  "There 
are  five  thousand  acres  of  fine  agricultural  land  in  the  Valley 
close  to  Pine  Ridge  that  we  can  spare — I  like  your  idea,  Mike, 
it's  good." 

Immediately  after  getting  Monroe's  approval,  Scully  issued 
the  following  prospectus,  which  he  had  printed,  sending  copies 
to  the  local  papers  in  the  neighboring  towns,  and  also  to  the 
depot  masters  on  the  different  lines  of  railways  within  a  radius 
of  fifty  miles,  with  a  request  that  they  would  post  them  up  in 
waiting-rooms  and  prominent  places : 

FOR  SALE 

One  hundred  forty-acre  farms  in  Fair  Valley,  which  is  fif- 
teen miles  from .     The  land  has  a  rich,  black  soil,  suitable 

for  the  cultivation  of  wheat,  barlev,  potatoes,  and  other  vege- 
tables, and  such  fruits  as  can  be  grown  in  this  climate ;  the 
rainfall  is  sufficient,  no  irrigation  is  necessary,  good  well  water 
can  be  obtained  at  a  depth  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty-five  feet 
below  the  surface. 

Easy  terms  and  every  assistance  will  be  given  to  bona  fide 
settlers  who  desire  to  establish  for  themselves  a  permanent 
home.     Speculators  need  not  apply.     For  further  information 

^^  ^                   The  Monroe  Land  Agency, 
County,  Montana. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  poster  was  a  plat  of  the  land. 
Ere   a    week   had    passed   there    were    many    inquiries    for 
further  information,  to  which  Scully  responded  with  a  stereo- 


356  MONROE    TOWNSHIP 

typed  letter  that  the  land  would  be  sold  for  ten  dollars  an  acre, 
payment  could  be  deferred  for  twenty  years  by  the  purchaser 
paying  six  per  cent  interest,  to  be  paid  on  the  first  day  of 
September,  annually ;  there  would  be  a  clause  in  the  lease  pro- 
hibiting the  sale  of  intoxicating  liquors  on  the  ground,  the 
installing  of  any  gambling  house,  dance  hall,  or  places  for  im- 
moral purposes ;  such  clauses  to  be  so  binding  as  to  enable  the 
present  owner  to  cancel  the  lease,  and  eject  the  tenant;  that 
further,  no  transfer  of  the  land  would  be  permitted  to  a  third 
party  without  the  consent  of  a  committee  of  five  who  would 
adjudicate  on  the  legitimacy  and  advisability  of  the  transfer, 
and  where  objections  were  raised  against  such  transfer,  the 
Monroe  estate  guarantees  to  the  party  desiring  to  move  full 
value  for  all  improvements  made  during  their  possession ;  the 
committee  of  five  aforementioned  to  act  as  appraisers. 

The  issuing  of  the  poster  caused  a  sensation ;  it  was  at  vari- 
ance with  Monroe's  policy,  who  had  always  been  in  the  market 
to  buy.    Father  Chadwick  was  enthusiastic  over  it. 

"You've  got  a  live  man  here."  he  remarked  to  Monroe,  the 
first  time  they  met  after  the  poster  appeared. 

"Wasn't  I  a  live  man  ?"  turning  on  the  pastor. 

"Yes,  in  your  day ;  but  things  are  changed  now,  and  Scull\ 
is  in  harmony  with  the  times." 

"You're  looking  for  an  increase  in  your  flock,"  replied 
Monroe,  jokingly. 

"Yes.  I  expect  some  of  our  way  of  thinking  will  take  ad- 
vantage of  this  splendid  opportunity." 

Stringer,  Rolofif,  Randal  and  Bronson,  all  approved  of  it. 

Before  a  week  Scully  had  over  twenty  letters  of  inquir\\  a 
number  came  and  visited  the  land  personally,  and  to  one  and 
all  he  said.  "All  reasonable  assistance  will  be  given,  but  you 
must  live  up  to  any  agreements  you  make :  this  is  a  business 
proposition." 

The  many  letters  that  arrived  so  enthused  Monroe  that 
without  informing  either  Scully  or  his  daughter,  he  went  over 
to  the  town  in  which  he  banked,  and  placed  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars to  the  credit  of  Michael  Scully  and  brought  a  check  book, 
which  he  handed  to  Mike  with  the  remark : 


MONROE    TOWNSHIP  357 

"You'll  need  a  little  cash  to  run  this  thing,  my  boy,  before 
you  get  through,  and  here's  something  to  be  going  on  with." 

Mike  handed  the  book  to  his  wife,  telling  her  to  place  that 
amount  to  the  credit  of  the  Monroe  Land  Agency,  and  charge 
six  per  cent  interest  against  it. 

"That's  not  a  loan,  Mike,"  shouted  Monroe. 

"I  know  that.  I  know  it's  a  gift  for  which  I  thank  you; 
but  we're  going  to  keep  a  correct  account  of  everything." 

Many  who  made  application  had  little  resources,  but  to  all 
Mike  gave  encouragement :  to  those  having  families  he  was 
extra  solicitous.  "The  first  thing  you  do,"  he  said  to  those 
who  agreed  to  the  terms,  "is  to  provide  shelter,  put  up  a  plain 
house,  that  you  can  use  afterward  as  a  barn."  He  had  or- 
dered lumber,  doors  and  window  sashes  suitable  for  such  pur- 
poses, the  lumber  being  of  such  lengths  as  would  require  the 
least  skill  in  putting  such  structures  together,  nails,  locks,  and 
the  necessary  hardware,  which  he  sold  on  time.  He  ordered 
three  gang  plows  of  the  latest  improved  style,  harrows  and 
rollers,  and  supplied  horses,  for  the  use  of  which  he  charged 
a  fair  rental.  He  established  a  general  store  on  the  ground, 
where  supplies  could  be  purchased.  The  progress  was  phenom- 
enal. Monroe  entered  into  the  enterprise  with  spirit,  aiding 
the  settlers  in  every  way  he  could. 

"I  thought  you'd  retired,"  said  his  daughter,  smiling,  to 
him  one  day,  while  at  breakfast,  when  she  noticed  the  clay  on 
his  boots. 

"It  begins  to  look,  girl,  as  if  I'd  only  started." 

Mike,  during  all  this  time,  never  neglected  the  ranch, 
Monroe  had  no  time  to  pay  any  attention  to  it.  Father  Chad- 
wick  was  nearly  as  busy  as  Alonroe.  He  found  to  his  great 
delight  that  more  than  half  of  those  availing  themselves  of  the 
opportunity  were  of  his  religion,  and  as  a  rule  those  had  the 
largest  families. 

"If  the  government  of  the  country  had  only  pursued  this 
plan,"  he  said,  one  evening,  while  enjoying  a  cigar  with 
Monroe  in  the  parlor,  "how  much  better  it  would  have  been 
for  all  concerned.  Instead,  they  allowed  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres  to  every  Dick,  Tom  and  Harry  that  came  along,  the 


358  MONROE    TOWNSHIP 

most  of  the  fellows  who  took  claims  held  them  for  six  months, 
till  they  could  prove  title,  and  then  sold  them  to  speculators, 
while  the  honest  homesteader,  who  located  to  stay  and  hoped 
he  would  have  neighbors;  in  a  year  or  two  found  himself  and 
his  family  out  in  the  wilderness,  tired  of  it  on  account  of  the 
isolation,  and  moved  out." 

"Yes,  that  was  a  shame,"  said  Mrs.  Scully,  "especially  for 
the  poor  woman  who  sometimes  needed  assistance  which  could 
not  be  obtained.    Many  died  before  help  could  be  secured." 

"I  understand  Doctor  Gibbs  had  a  case  over  there  the  other 
day,"  remarked  Monroe. 

"Yes,"  said  Mike,  "we  had  our  first  birth;  both  the  woman 
and  child  are  doing  well.    It's  a  job  for  you,  Father  Chadwick." 

"Splendid,"  said  the  good  priest,  rubbing  his  hands,  "I've 
been  and  seen  them  already." 

"I  think  we'll  start  a  little  church  of  our  own,  Mike,  it's  too 
much  to  be  letting  his  reverence  have  all  the  business." 

"You  can't  get  out  of  my  parish,"  retorted  the  priest,  "it 
covers  the  whole  country !" 

"That's  so,"  said  Monroe,  laughing,  "so  we're  up  against  it, 
and  there's  Gibbs,  too,  he  says  it's  like  striking  oil.  He  looks 
for  quite  an  increase  in  the  population."  Mike  gave  a  signifi- 
cant look  at  his  wife. 

Amongst  the  settlers  in  Monroe  Township,  as  it  began  to 
be  called,  were  many  artisans,  most  of  whom  had  been  brought 
up  on  farms,  but  had  left  them  when  young  to  move  into  the 
cities,  where  they  believed  there  were  larger  opportunities,  and 
at  least  more  company,  and  now  in  turn,  tired  of  city  life, 
resolved  to  try  the  country  once  more.  To  all  Mike  showed 
a  way  for  them  to  utilize  their  surplus  time.  The  carpenters 
were  in  special  demand,  as  were  the  blacksmith,  the  shoemaker, 
the  wheelwright  and  the  tailor.  A  grand  system  of  co-operation 
was  formed  and,  as  if  by  necessity,  everything  began  to  hum. 
The  season  was  propitious — the  rich  virgin  soil  gave  ample  re- 
wards, so  that  when  the  time  for  paying  the  first  annual  inter- 
est arrived,  few,  if  any  there  were,  had  difficulty  in  meeting  it. 

Black  Jack  Murry,  who  had  condemned  the  thing  on  its 
inception  on  account  of  the  prohibition  clauses  in  the  lease,  had 


MONROE   TOWNSHIP  359 

to  admit  it  was  a  howling  success,  and  in  spite  of  his  original 
aversion  felt  pleased,  as  some  of  those  who  had  settled  on  the 
land  occasionally  paid  him  a  visit. 

Just  eighteen  months  after  the  birth  of  John  Monroe  Scully, 
young  Mike  arrived,  to  the  great  delight  of  all  concerned. 

Monroe's  interest  in  the  community  was  growing  apace,  he 
having  assumed  nearly  the  entire  management  of  Monroe 
Township,  with  Mike  and  his  wife  as  aids.  It  was  a  frequent 
sight  to  see  him  driving  from  one  house  to  another,  amongst 
the  neighbors,  inquiring  as  to  how  things  were  going,  with 
young  John  perched  up  beside  him. 

The  second  year  proved  equally  as  prosperous,  crops  were 
good,  cottages  began  to  be  built,  the  store  that  Mike  had  in- 
stalled was  a  flourishing  concern,  and  to  this  Mike  gave  con- 
siderable attention.  It  was  located  at  the  northeast  corner  of 
Main  street  and  Monroe  avenue,  and  was  a  favorite  place  of 
meeting  for  Stringer,  Randal,  Bronson,  Roloff  and  others 
when  they  came  to  town,  as  they  used  to  say.  Even  Black  Jack 
Murry  began  to  trade  there  on  business  principles — he  always 
got  the  worth  of  his  money. 

On  the  third  year  there  were  a  couple  of  transfers,  but  as 
Stringer,  Randal,  Bronson,  Rolofif  and  Father  Chadwick  had 
appraised  the  value  of  the  improvements  to  the  satisfaction  of 
the  outgoing  tenant,  and  as  there  were  over  a  dozen  appli- 
cants for  the  farms,  two  of  which  the  same  committee  decided 
upon,  everything  was  satisfactory. 

Mrs.  Scully  determined  to  be  a  factor,  so  she  called  a  ladies' 
meeting,  which  Mrs.  Bronson  (nee  Suzanna  Stringer),  Miss 
Roloff,  Miss  Winethrop,  and  a  number  of  other  ladies  at- 
tended. Mrs.  Scully  called  the  meeting  to  order  and  in  a  few 
well  chosen  remarks,  as  the  papers  often  put  it,  announced  that 
the  subject  of  the  evening  was  education.  "We  have  now 
quite  a  number  of  children  here,  and  have  no  school.  I 
thought  I  would  bring  you  ladies  together  to  talk  the  matter 
over."  When  she  got  through  a  number  of  the  maids  and 
matrons  present  clapped  their  hands. 

"We  have  no  building  suitable,"  remarked  one  of  the  ladies 
present. 


360  MONROE    TOWNSHIP 

"O,  ril  see  to  that,"  remarked  Mrs.  Scully. 

"What  about  a  teacher?"  inquired  another. 

"I'm  afraid  we  will  have  to  do  the  teaching  ourselves — some 
of  us  will  have  to  volunteer." 

"I'm  willing  to  do  my  share,"  spoke  up  Miss  Roloff. 

"And  I,  too,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Bronson. 

Some  half  dozen  volunteered  to  give  such  time  as  they  could. 
The  ladies  warmed  up  to  the  movement,  a  motion  was  made 
that  they  appoint  officers,  which  was  agreed  to.  Mrs.  Scully 
was  elected  president  after  a  mild  protest  on  her  part.  Miss 
Sarah  Roloff,  secretary,  and  Mrs.  Bronson,  treasurer.  After 
she  inquired  how  much  bonds  she  would  have  to  put  up,  which 
created  a  laugh,  Mike,  who  happened  to  enter  the  house  at  the 
time,  hearing  the  laughter,  opened  the  door  and  peeped  in. 

"We  want  you,"  shouted  his  wife. 

"No,  not  me!"  as  he  looked  in  and  saw  the  number  of 
females  present.  He  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  the  women  laughing 
heartily  as  they  saw  him  escape. 

"I'm  going  to  appoint  a  committee  to  bring  Mr.  Scully  in," 
said  his  wife. 

"Good!    Good!" 

"I  appoint  Mrs.  Bronson,  Miss  Roloff  and  Mrs.  Rooney." 

"Bedad,  we'll  bring  him,  then,"  said  the  latter,  as  they  went 
out. 

When  they  returned,  conducting  Mike,  he  looked  around  and 
laughingly  inquired  what  all  this  meant. 

"The  president  will  explain,"  said  Mrs.  Bronson. 

Mike  looked  at  his  wife,  who  he  noticed  was  the  presiding 
genius, 

"This,  sir,  is  a  meeting  of  the  school  board." 

"Indeed,  I  didn't  know  we  had  such  an  august  body." 

"Well,  we  have,  and  I'm  the  president." 

Scully  bowed  to  her. 

"And  we  have  decided  that  the  children's  education  in  this 
place  has  been  sadly  neglected,  and  that  you're  to  blame,  sir." 

"How  am  I  to  blame?" 

"For  not  furnishing  adequate  school  accommodations." 

"Why,  what  do  you  expect  me  to  do?" 


MONROE    TOWNSHIP  361 

"Build  a  schoolhouse  without  further  delay." 

"My  children  are  too  young  to  go  to  school,"  replied  Mike, 
laughing. 

"Mine's  not,"  "Nor  mine,"  "No,  nor  mine,"  spoke  up  several. 

"Who's  going  to  do  the  teaching?"  inquired  Mike. 

"I  am,  for  one,"  spoke  up  Miss  Roloff. 

"Then  I'll  go  to  school,"  said  Scully.  This  sally  on  his  part 
created  a  laugh  in  which  the  women  joined.  "And  I'll  get  you 
a  few  pupils  besides.  I  know  one  young  man  who'll  only  be 
too  glad  to  go."  Miss  Roloff  blushed  while  the  other  women 
laughed  at  her. 

"Well,  the  order-  of  the  board  are,"  said  his  wife,  assuming 
an  authoritative  air,  "that  you  proceed  without  further  delay 
to  put  up  a  suitable  building  for  school  purposes." 

"I'll  see  your  father  about  you."  said  Mike,  grinning  at 
his  wife. 

"You'll  promise  before  you  leave  this  room,  sir ;  know  that 
I'm  the  president." 

"Well,  as  you're  the  boss,  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  promise." 

"Now  you  can  leave  the  room." 

"Can't  I  stay?" 

"No,  sir,  we're  going  into  executive  session !" 

Mike  bowed  himself  out,  'midst  the  uproarious  laughter  of 
the  lady  members  of  the  school  organisation. 

When  he  was  gone  the  question  of  a  site  came  up.  It  was 
decided  to  locate  it  on  the  southwest  corner  of  Main  street  and 
Monroe  avenue. 

"I  make  a  motion,"  said  Mrs.  Bronson,  "that  if  he  builds  us 
a  nice  schoolhouse  that  we  call  it  after  him." 

Mrs.  Randal  seconded  the  motion. 

The  school  was  built  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  the  com- 
mittee. Scully,  however,  balked  at  having  his  name  put  over 
it,  and  was  allowed  to  make  a  suggestion.  It  was  called  the 
Thomas  Jefferson,  which  met  the  general  approval,  it  being  a 
Democratic  constituency. 

Another  year  had  passed,  rapid  developments  had  taken 
place  in  Monroe  Township.  Through  the  pass  at  Pine  Ridge, 
through  Main  street  to  the  river,  had  become  a  thoroughfare, 


362  THE    PRIMER    CLASS 

and  a  ferry  had  been  established  over  the  river.  Little  re- 
mained to  be  done. 

One  evening  Mike  came  home.  He  had  something  wrapped 
in  paper  under  his  arm ;  it  was  near  supper  time. 

Mr.  Monroe,  Mrs.  Scully  and  her  two  children  were  seated 
in  the  parlor.  Johnny  went  and  threw  his  arms  around  his 
father's  legs. 

"What's  that  you  have  Mike?"  inquired  his  wife. 

"It's  a  spade." 

"Well,  what  are  you  bringing  it  in  here  for?" 

He  unwrapped  the  paper.    The  spade  was  silver  plated. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that?"  said  Monroe,  look- 
ing at  it  in  Scully's  hand. 

"Oh,  that's  a  secret." 

"I  didn't  think  you  had  any  secrets,"  said  his  wife,  smiling. 

"O,  yes,  I've  had  one,  but  I'm  going  to  tell  you  now.  You 
see,  you've  given  me  so  many  surprises  since  I've  been  here,  I 
thought  I'd  give  you  one.  We're  going  to  dig  the  foundation 
for  the  church  tomorrow,  and  I  got  this  spade  so  that  your 
father  could  turn  the  first  sod." 

Monroe  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands.  Scully's  wife  gave 
him  a  look  of  admiration.  The  bell  rang,  announcing  their 
supper  was  ready.  As  Monroe  lifted  his  head  a  tear  was  seen 
glistening  in  his  eye. 


Chapter  XXXVII 


THE   PRIMER   CLASS 


Tony  Murphy  had  attended  school  for  four  years,  thanks  to 
the  aid  and  persistency  of  his  patron,  Mrs.  Great,  and  the 
watchful  eye  of  Father  Nolan.  Now  almost  fourteen  years 
of  age,  he  began  to  think  that  he  knew  enough.  He  wanted 
to  go  to  work.  Patsy  O'Brien,  two  years  his  elder,  had  got 
a  job  in  the  tin  factory  through  the  influence  of  his  sister 
Mamie. 


THE    PRIMER    CLASS  363 

This  necessitated  young  O'Brien  giving  up  his  newspaper 
route,  which  was  taken  up  by  Tony.  This  small  job  of  dis- 
tributing evening  papers  was  not  adequate  to  fill  Tony's  vaunt- 
ing ambition.  So  he  determined  to  revolt  against  a  longer 
continuation  of  wasting  his  time  going  to  school,  and  would 
embark  in  the  newspaper  business.  There  was  a  protest  from 
Mrs.  Great,  and  a  lecture  from  the  worthy  priest,  which  was 
of  no  avail. 

A  strong  factor  in  support  of  Tony's  desire  was  the  poverty 
of  the  O'Briens.  Old  man  O'Brien  was  losing  his  pull  with 
the  good  alderman,  so  instead  of  getting  four  or  five  months' 
work  in  a  year  from  the  city,  he  could  scarcely  get  two ;  he 
protested — he  was  a  good  Democrat  and  never  scratched  his 
ticket.  The  alderman  complimented  him  on  his  loyalty  to 
principle.  "But  what  can  I  do?"  he  said,  "there's  so  many  of 
mv  people  wanting  work  and  I  have  to  divide  it  up  as  best 
I  can." 

Mrs.  O'Brien,  worn  out  with  long  years  of  struggle,  began 
to  show  the  effects  of  never-ceasing  toil  and  trouble.  Tony 
had  his  way.  The  three  or  four  dollars  that  he  could  earn  a 
week,  added  to  that  brought  in  by  Mamie  and  Patsy,  kept  the 
pot  boiling.  Old  man  O'Brien  and  young  Murphy  began  to 
feel  a  little  more  independent. 

Mrs.  O'Brien's  chief  trouble  was  in  'rounding  the  youngsters 
up  at  night.  They  used  to  gather  around  Hooligan's  corner 
in  a  group,  and  often  played  pranks  on  the  neighbors,  with  an 
occasional  scrap  amongst  themselves.  About  nine  p.  m.  Mrs. 
O'Brien  would  send  Mamie  to  call  in  the  children.  Mamie 
would  go  to  the  front  door  and  shout,  "Patsee!  Tony!" 
vSometimes  they  would  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  her,  and  after  yelling 
a  number  of  times  she  would  threaten  to  "send  mother."  This 
invariably  brought  them,  Tony  lagging  behind  Patsy,  who 
would  protest  to  his  sister,  on  coming  within  talking  distance, 
that  it  was  only  nine  o'clock.  There  were  times  w^hen  Mamie's 
war-cry  would  fail  in  bringing  them  in.  Then  Mrs.  O'Brien 
would  put  her  shawl  over  her  head  and  go  gunning  for  them ; 
as  she  came  up  the  little  street  some  of  the  boys  would  see  her 
and  give  the  alarm,  "Hook  it,  Patsy,  your  mother's  coming." 


364  THE    PRIMER    CLASS 

Patsy  and  Tony  would  take,  to  their  heels,  run  a  little  way, 
then  duck  through  an  alley,  run  along  it  and  find  their  way 
through  one  of  the  spaces  between  the  houses  fronting  the 
O'Brien  homestead,  and  while  Mrs.  O'Brien  would  be  inquir- 
ing for  them,  the  two  youngsters  would  have  time  to  peel  oflf 
their  clothes  and  jump  into  bed.  She'd  return  and  find  them 
both  feigning  sound  sleep.  She  knew  better,  and  would  ease 
her  mind  bv  denouncing  the  young  ruffians  at  the  corner,  who 
had  told  her  they  hadn't  seen  them  all  night,  Patsy  and  Tony 
chuckling  to  themselves,  with  the  blankets  stuffed  into  their 
mouths  to  suppress  their  laughter.  They  always  enjoyed  the 
joke  of  "putting  it  over  the  old  woman,"  as  they  called  it. 

Amongst  the  group  of  urchins  that  used  to  congregate 
around  the  corner  was  one  Gus  Schultz  by  name.  Mrs. 
O'Brien  had  a  different  appellation  for  him ;  she  called  him 
"the  devil."  His  brother,  Rudolph,  two  years  younger,  was 
only  an  imp  in  Airs,  O'Brien's  estimation.  Gus  was  the  leader 
of  the  gang — he  could  smoke  his  cigarettes  with  as  much  en- 
joyment as  a  society  belle,  or  as  the  son  of  an  illustrious  sire, 
who,  by  accident,  became  .mayor  of  the  great  city  of  Chicago, 
and  who,  knowing  that  outside  his  accomplishments  as  a 
cigarette  fiend  he  possessed  naught  but  weakness  and  unfitness 
for  the  position,  only  appeared  in  the  council  chamber  the  night 
he  was  installed  and  the  night  he  was  extinguished,  his  political 
light  going  out  forever. 

As  was  natural,  considering  his  extraction,  Gus  could  drink 
beer,  so  the  larger  boys  had  a  can  hidden  in  a  secure  place 
under  a  flight  of  steps.  Many  a  pint  they  consumed.  Hooli- 
gan never  inquired  who  sent  them  for  it.  it  was  none  of  his 
business,  he  paid  a  license — that  was  enough. 

Sometimes  there  were  complaints  of  the  young  hoodlums 
that  hung  around  Hooligan's  corner.  That  worthy  always 
came  to  their  defense.  "They're  neighbor's  children."  he  would 
say.  "and  if  thev  can't  stand  around  their  own  corner,  where 
will  they  stand?" 

Many  a  time  passers-by  would  hear  language,  phrases,  and 
expressions,  unknown  a  few  years  ago,  and  up  to  this  day  not 
in  use  in  many  of  the  efifete  nations  of  Europe. 


THE    PRIMER    CLASS  365 

Their  chief  amusement  was  to  guy  the  girls  as  they  passed. 

"How  are  you,  Annie?  Hello,  Polly,"  they  would  say,  when  a 
couple  would  be  going  along.  The  girls  might  turn  around 
to  see  who  was  accosting  them. 

"Come  here,"  one  of  them  would  shout,  "I  want  to  talk 
to  you !" 

The  girl,  if  she  was  foolish  enough  to  stop,  might  give  a  look 
of  contempt  at  the  young  snipes,  as  she  rated  them  or  in  her 
indignation  called  them.  If  she  did,  they  gave  her  the  "ha  ha" 
or  made  reflections  about  her  that  made  her  boil  over  ere  she 
left,  followed  by  their  jeers  and  laughter. 

Some  of  the  gang  never  worked.  They  couldn't  find  a  job, 
or  over-indulgent  parents  didn't  expect  them  to  do  so.  Those 
used  to  hang  around  the  whole  day,  except  when  they  went 
home  to  eat.  It  was  one  round  of  pleasure.  The  Jew  ped- 
dlers were  their  legitimate  prey.  If  it  was  fruit  he  was  selling, 
a  couple  would  attract  his  attention  by  professing  they  were 
going  to  buy,  while  the  rest  of  the  bunch  were  looting  his 
stock.  If  he  complained,  so  much  the  worse  for  him,  Gus 
Schultz,  or  some  of  his  crowd,  would  run  around  in  search  of 
a  brick  or  some  other  missle,  to  hurl  at  the  "dam'd  sheeny." 
They  had  as  little  use  for  the  children  of  Israel  as  had  their 
parents. 

The  "dirty  Dagos,"  as  they  called  the  Italians,  who  began  to 
settle  in  the  neighborhood  at  this  time,  were  another  object  of 
their  wrath,  or  practical  jokes,  as  they  called  them. 

They  were,  however,  somewhat  impartial  to  all  others — the 
man  who  had  business  to  do  in  a  store,  and  having  a  horse  and 
buggy  to  leave  standmg  outside,  would  do  well  to  take  his 
whip,  horse-blanket  or  rugs,  if  he  had  any,  with  him ;  if  he 
didn't  take  this  wise  precaution,  he  would  be  lucky,  or  the 
gang  neglectful,  if  he  had  them  wdien  he  came  out. 

On  one  occasion  a  peddler,  whose  business  it  was  to  serve 
free  lunch  to  saloons,  left  his  wagon  outside  Hooligan's  and 
went  in  to  see  if  he  could  induce  him  to  put  up  a  lunch.  It 
took  him  some  time  trying  to  impress  Hooligan  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  offering  this  seductive  plan  of  increasing  his  patron- 
age.   Hooligan  was  slow  in  coming  to  a  conclusion.    The  man 


366  THE    PRIMER    CLASS 

was  buying  a  few  drinks.  At  length  he  gave  up  the  effort. 
As  he  was  leaving  Hooligan  told  him  to  call  again.  In  his 
absence  from  his  wagon,  without  knowing  it,  he  had  done  a 
land-office  business — he  had  nearly  got  rid  of  all  his  stock, 
including  the  whip.  They  left  him  little,  but  the  horse  and 
wagon.  When  he  found  out  his  loss,  he  set  up  a  roar,  a  crowd 
gathered,  no  one  knew  who  committed  the  depredation.  The 
peddler  groaned  at  his  loss,  the  crowd  which  had  gathered 
laughed  at  him.  Amongst  the  loot  was  a  number  of  bricks  of 
limburger  cheese.  It  was  a  poor  neighborhood  for  the  sale 
of  the  Dutchman's  delight,  but  Gus  took  his  .share  home — the 
aroma  from  it  was  pleasing  to  their  nostrils,  the  taste  agree- 
able to  their  palates. 

Some  of  it  was  offered  to  Mrs.  Flynn.  She  chased  the  gen- 
erous donor  with  the  poker.  "Take  that  dirty  rotten  stuff 
out  of  here,"  she  cried,  as  her  young  hopeful  scooted  away  with 
it  in  his  hand.  That  day  limburger  cheese  was  a  glut  on  the 
market,  so  the  boys  amused  themselves  by  pelting  it  at  one 
another,  at  the  passers-by,  or  smearing  the  garments  of  some 
of  the  people  who  had  to  go  that  way;  it  being  good  and  juicy 
made  it  adaptable  for  the  purpose. 

On  another  occasion,  they  spied  a  brewer's  wagon  stand- 
ing a  little  way  down  the  street.  The  brewer's  men  were  in 
taking  a  drink.  They  did  some  family  trade,  and  had  quarter- 
barrels.  "Come  on,  boys,"  said  Gus,  approaching  the  wagon, 
he  got  one  of  the  quarters  on  his  shoulder,  but  as  it  was  a 
little  too  heavy  for  him  he  had  to  call  for  help.  This  feat,  up 
to  this  time,  was  unparalleled.  He  was  determined  to  get 
away  with  it,  and  two  of  his  associates  came  to  his  aid.  They 
steadied  the  barrel  on  his  shoulder  and  endeavored  to  relieve 
him  from  part  of  the  strain.  The  rest  of  the  juveniles  en- 
couraged him  by  whispering,  "Go  on,  Gus."  Some  of  the 
older  people  who  were  witnesses  of  the  occurrence  laughed. 
The  boys  had  nearly  reached  Hooligan's  corner  when  the  two 
brewery  men  came  out  of  the  place  where  they  had  been  gos- 
siping, and  looking  in  the  same  direction  as  a  number  of 
people  were  gazing,  detected  the  cause  of  their  curiosity,  and 
gave  chase.    Gus,  unable  to  flee  with  the  beer,  was  compelled 


THE    PRIMER    CLASS  2)6? 

to  drop  it  and  take  flight.  Acts  of  enterprise  like  this  made 
Gus  a  hero  in  the  eyes  of  his  associates. 

When  complaints  of  the  young  vagabonds  got  so  frequent 
that  the  decent  people  of  the  neighborhood  began  to  complain, 
other  old  blarneys  of  women  would  say,  "Sure,  they're  only 
children." 

Occasionally  one  of  them  used  to  get  "pinched,"  as  they 
called  it.  Hooligan  or  the  good  alderman  got  them  out  right 
away.  This  knowledge  of  their  influence  was  an  incentive  to 
further  depredations. 

There  was  great  excitement  around  Hooligan's  one  evening 
about  the  time  this  chapter  is  being  recorded,  an  interesting 
event  was  going  to  take  place,  an  honored  guest  was  being 
expected.  A  reception  committee  had  gone  to  meet  the  gentle- 
man some  distance  out  of  town,  and  escort  him  to  the  place 
where  anxious  friends  and  ardent  admirers  would  have  an 
opportunity  to  greet  him,  just  as  the  nabobs  of  the  Union 
League  or  other  representative  bodies  select  committees  to  go 
a  distance  by  rail  to  meet  and  conduct  well  advertised  states- 
men, politicians,  or  successful  grafters  who  happened  to  be  in 
their  set. 

A  remarkable  event  worthy  of  recording  happened  on  this 
august  occasion,  something  the  like  of  which  never  happened 
before  in  the  "Workingman's  Headquarters."  Hooligan  wasn't 
in  favor  of  innovations  of  this  character,  but  on  an  occasion 
of  this  magnitude  he  was  willing  to  thaw  out  a  little.  The 
reunion  was  not  going  to  be  a  frost  if  he  could  help  it,  so  he 
dispatched  Rock  to  go  and  secure  a  suitable  lunch  ;  one  to  the 
taste  of  the  locality.  Rock  being  to  the  manner  born,  told 
Hooligan  he  knew  what  would  make  a  hit. 

"Well,  put  it  down  on  a  piece  of  paper." 

Rock  began  to  jot  it  down.  "We'll  have  a  piece  of  corn 
beef — " 

"And  some  cabbage,"  chimed  in  Hooligan. 

"Yes,  and  a  pig's  head — that's  what  I'll  take  them."  con- 
tinued Rock,  "and  a  half  dozen  loaves  of  bread.  Do  you 
think  I  should  get  a  couple  of  them  rye?" 

"What  for?"  said  Hooligan,  in  remonstrance.   "Who  the  hell 


368  THE    PRIMER    CLASS 

would  want  rye?  Only  the  Schultz  bunch,  and  if  they  can't 
eat  what  other  people  eat,  let  them  go  without." 

"I  can  get  some  potatoes,  you  know,  the  kind  that's  a  little 
sour,  and  a  few  bunches  of  scallions,  and  maybe  radishes ; 
that  will  make  a  good  lay-out,  and  we'll  arrange  it  on  the  far 
end  of  the  counter,"  suggested  Rock,  "it  will  look  swell." 

"No,  it  will  take  up  too  much  room,"  said  Hooligan,  "we'll 
use  the  table  and  place  it  there,"  pointing  to  the  ladies'  en- 
trance.   "There's  three  dollars — go  and  do  the  best  you  can." 

Rock  set  out  for  a  place  on  Randolph  street,  where  saloon 
lunches  were  a  specialty,  and  returned  to  Hooligan's  temple 
of  personal  liberty  with  everything  as  desired. 

Hooligan  looked  at  the  supplies  with  admiration.  Rock  was 
dispatched  to  some  of  the  neighboring  houses  to  borrow  a 
knife  to  carve  with,  and  a  few  forks  to  point  with.  Those 
might  be  assumed  to  be-  a  superfluity,  as  many  of  Hooligan's 
patrons  would  just  as  soon  use  their  digits. 

While  things  were  being  arranged  on  the  table,  some  of  the 
Hooligan  vets  felt  like  sampling  it.  Hooligan  wouldn't  stand 
for  it.  One  of  the  juveniles  who  had  come  into  the  "Work- 
ingman's  Headquarters"  on  business,  noticed  the  lay-out.  He 
spread  the  news.  "Lots  of  everything,  corn  beef,  cabbage, 
pig's  head,  everything  grand,"  he  described,  in  his  enthusiasm. 

"I  wonder  if  he  will  let  us  have  any  of  it?"  inquired  one  of 
the  boys,  his  mouth  watering  in  expectation. 

"If  he  don't  he'll  lose  our  trade,"  threatened  another. 

The  illustrious  visitor  wasn't  expected  until  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening.  Up  to  this  time  the  lunch  had  been 
kept  covered  with  a  table  cloth,  the  original  intention  being- to 
place  it  under  the  victuals,  but  Hooligan  with  foresight  thought 
better  to  place  it  over  them.  A  number  of  people  had  gathered 
in  the  saloon,  many  of  them  strange  to  the  house  of  Hooligan, 
thev  had  got  word  of  the  expected  arrival  and  were  there  to 
give  him  welcome. 

Hooligan  gave  Rock  orders  to  uncover  the  lunch.  The 
regulars  rose  as  one  man,  and  advanced  upon  it. 

"Go  easy,  there,"  shouted  Hooligan,  to  them.  They  fell  back 
after  a  slight  skirmish ;  some  only  making  a  reconnoiter,  from 


THE    PRIMER    CLASS  369 

the  fact  of  their  being  in  the  rear  rank.  One  of  the  kids 
came  in  for  a  pint  of  beer,  accompanied  by  two  others  who 
came  to  investigate  the  display.  While  Hooligan  was  drawing 
the  beer  they  each  wheeled  around  in  double-quick  time,  and 
grabbing  a  fork  stuck  it  into  a  piece  of  the  pig's  head. 

"That'll  do,  that'll  do,"  yelled  Hooligan,  from  behind  the 
counter.  He  was  too  late,  however,  as  each  of  the  juveniles 
had  succeeded  in  "spearing  a  chunk,"  as  Jimmy  Quinn  would 
describe  it.  When  they  came  out  eating  what  they  had  cap- 
tured, they  described  the  lay-out  in  glowing  terms. 

"My,  but  it's  fine,"  said  one  of  the  fortunate  ones,  licking 
his  lips. 

"Won't  he  let  us  have  any?"  inquired  one  of  the  longing 
ones. 

"Naw!  he  chased  us — we  had  to  make  a  sneak  or  we'd  have 
got  none.    He's  put  Rock  to  watch  it." 

"I'm  going  to  have  some,"  boasted  Schultz. 

"Me,  too,"  said  Flynn. 

"You  can  count  me  in,"  remarked  young  Dempsey. 

Shortly  after  eight  p.  m.  a  group  consisting  of  a  dozen  or 
more  could  be  seen  coming  down  the  main  street,  a  young  man 
neatly  dressed  was  at  the  head  of  the  procession.  Henry  Mort 
was  on  his  right,  Toe  Phipps  on  his  left,  John  Bert  close  be- 
hind him.  They  were  chatting  and  laughing  as  they  walked 
along.  Passers-by  turned  and  gazed  at  them,  wondering  who 
they  were.  As  they  neared  Hooligan's  they  received  an  oc- 
casional nod  and  smile ;  reaching  the  entrance  to  "Working- 
man's  Headquarters"  the  crowd  of  kids  who  gathered  around 
set  up  a  shout.  The  central  figure  nodded  his  approval  and 
smiled  at  them.  Gus  Schultz  grabbed  him  by  the  hand,  he 
pressed  his  in  return,  and  walked  into  the  saloon. 

"Hello,  Hart,  welcome  home,"  shouted  Hooligan,  running 
from  behind  the  bar  to  greet  the  illustrious  traveler.  There 
was  hand-shaking  and  tapping  on  the  back  of  the  newcomer. 

"My,  Red,  but  you  look  well,"  remarked  Rock,  with  his  old 
grin ;  Hart  seized  Rock  by  the  hand. 

"How  are  they  coming,  old  pal?"  was  Hart's  friendly 
greeting. 


370  THE    PRIMER    CLASS 

"Let's  have  something,"  shouted  Mort. 

The  drinks  were  set  out  and  Hart's  health  drank.  A  num- 
ber eager  to  display  their  friendship  for  the  new  arrival  were 
clamoring  for  the  opportunity  to  buy.  Some  of  the  youngsters 
lined  the  door  to  get  a  look  at  the  hero  of  the  hour. 

During  a  little  respite  Hooligan,  who  was  talking  to  Hart, 
seemed  anxious.  "I  expected  the  alderman  around — I  told 
him  you  were  coming." 

"How  is  he?"  inquired  Hart. 

"Better  than  ever,"  Hooligan  replied,  enthusiastically. 

There  was  a  commotion  in  front — "Hurrah  for  Great," 
could  be  heard.  "Give  us  a  nickel,  alderman,"  yelled  some  of 
the  kids.  The  city  father  stopped  at  the  entrance  and,  placing 
his  hand  in  his  pocket,  pulled  out  a  number  of  small  coins  and 
threw  them  on  the  sidewalk.  There  was  a  general  scramble ; 
the  alderman  was  laughing  as  he  walked  into  the  saloon.  He 
Avas  greeted  on  all  sides,  he  went  forward  and  shook  Hart's 
hand  warmly,  and  complimented  him  on  his  looks.  The  urchins 
outside,  after  the  scramble  for  the  money  was  over,  waited  in 
expectancy.  They  looked  longing  towards  where  the  lunch 
lay — there  were  three  or  four  of  the  regulars  around  it,  fishing. 

"Come,  give  the  boys  what  they  want,"  ordered  the  alder- 
man.   The  regulars  deserted  the  lunch  to  crowd  to  the  bar. 

"Now,"  whispered  Schultz  to  Dempsey  and  Flynn.  The 
three  of  them  sneaked  in,  and  going  towards  the  lunch-table 
unobserved  Schultz  grabbed  what  was  left  of  the  pig's  head, 
Dempsey  secured  the  corn  beef,  Flynn  took  a  couple  of  the 
loaves  that  were  still  uncut,  and  they  retreated  in  good  order 
by  the  ladies'  entrance,  and  ran  down  the  street,  followed  by 
the  entire  push. 

"Fill  them  again,"  remarked  the  alderman,  who  was  stand- 
ing beside  Hart,  talking  sociably  to  him,  after  the  second 
round  had  been  drank. 

"We've  a  nice  lunch,  alderman,"  remarked  Hooligan,  beam- 
ing with  pleasure. 

"Well,  I  feel  like  taking  a  snack  of  something,"  turning 
towards  the  table,  where  he  saw  the  tails  of  a  few  scallions 
sticking  out  of  the  tumbler,  a  number  of  radishes  on  a  plate 


THE    ABDUCTION  371 

with  salt  on  the  side;  a  few  dabs  of  fat  meat  on  tlie  table.  "Is 
this  the  lunch  ?"  he  looked  at  Hooligan  inquiringly.  Hooligan 
looked  through  a  gap  in  the  crowd  to  where  he  expected  to  see 
the  spread. 

"Holy  Moses,"  lie  exclaimed,  "by "     He  looked 

hard  at  some  of  the  regulars  as  if  they  were  worth  searching, 
but  like  the  late  lamented  Mark  Hanna,  they  stood  pat.  Some 
of  the  kids  were  suggested.  "If  I  knew  who  it  was,"  yelled 
Hooligan  in  a  towering  passion,  "I'd  have  the  whole  pack  of 
rotten  young  thieves  pinched." 

Quite  a  number  of  well  dressed  young  gentlemen  who  were 
present  looked  hard  at  Hooligan.  He  felt  abashed — he  knew 
he  had  committed  himself.  Such  language  was  not  appropriate 
in  such  companv,  especially  on  so  auspicious  an  occasion. 

Such  was  the  environment  of  Tony  Murphy's  boyhood  days. 


Chapter  XXXVIII 


THE  ABDUCTION 


When  Florence  got  back  to  the  store  after  lunching  with 
the  alderman,  she  told  Mary  Vann  what  had  taken  place,  and 
what  she  had  said  to  the  city  father  on  leaving  him. 

"You  did  right,  my  girl ;  keep  him  and  all  like  him  at  a  safe 
distance.  I  can  deliver  to  you  the  same  kind  of  sermon  as  did 
a  preacher  who  had  some  failings  for  which  his  flock  upbraided 
him,  'Don't  do  as  I  do,  but  do  as  I  say.'  There  is  a  great  field 
open  for  you,  wait ;  some  day  a  man  will  come  along  that  may 
be  worthy  of  you.  You  know  you  have  had  some  experience, 
let  that  be  a  lesson  to  you ;  a  little  dining,  a  little  wining  and 
a  little  sociability  helps  me  to  forget  some  of  my  early  troubles. 
I  have  had  my  loves,  now  I  have  little  but  my  hates.  When 
you  see  me  in  the  midst  of  a  merry  whirl,  I  am  like  the  little 
bird  in  the  cage  that  was  saddest  when  he  sang.  Go  and  see 
what  the  lady  wants." 

Florence  Burdett  and  Mary  Vann  were  constant  companions. 


Z72  THE   ABDUCTION 

They  often  mingled  with  the  gay  set.  Florence,  however,  had 
received  a  lesson,  and  with  more  mature  judgment  steered 
clear  of  the  shoals  that  oft  beset  a  beautiful  woman.  She  had 
become  an  expert  in  her  line,  only  second  to  Mary  Vann,  who 
was  considered  as  having  no  equal  in  the  millinery  business, 
Florence  had  been  five  years  in  the  Great  Cleveland  Store  and 
commanded  a  salary  of  fifteen  dollars  a  week.  Fler  mother, 
contrary  to  her  daughter's  wishes,  still  did  some  sewing,  so 
that  Widow  Burdett  might  be  said  to  be  on  "Easy  street." 
Occasionally  Florence  was  out  late  of  an  evening,  but  as  she 
could  always  give  an  account  of  herself  satisfactory  to  her 
mother,  the  latter  felt  no  uneasiness  on  her  daughter's  account 
— the  Hart  episode  had  been  nearly  forgotten. 

One  evening  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  after  leaving  the  store, 
Mary  Vann  and  Florence  had  occasion  to  go  west  on  A'ladison 
street.  They  had  crossed  the  river;  the  weather  of  the  past 
few  days  had  been  wretched.  It  had  been  sleeting,  there  was 
a  coating  of  slush  on  the  sidewalk,  but  their  feet  being  incased 
in  warm  boots  that  were  covered  with  arctics,  it  gave  them  little 
trouble,  only  to  compel  them  to  hold  up  their  skirts.  Both 
women  had  on  sealskin  coats  and  had  mufifs ;  there  were  but 
few  people  on  the  street. 

"My,  but  this  is  a  miserable  night,"  said  Florence,  as  she 
tried  to  avoid  the  thickest  of  the  puddles  on  the  ill-kept  walk. 

"Look  at  this  poor  creature  coming  along,"  said  Mary, 
nudging  her  companion.  The  woman  was  about  to  pass  them 
close  to  where  there  was  a  lamp  post.  Florence  looked  into 
her  face — recognition  was  mutual. 

"Why,  Margy,  is  that  you?"  Margy  looked  up  into  her 
questioner's  face,  but  it  was  a  second  or  two  before  she  could 
give  utterance. 

She  had  a  large  bundle  under  her  shawl.  She  lifted  it  up  a 
little  as  if  to  relieve  the  strain,  displacing  the  shawl.  Florence 
saw  it  was  a  child  she  was  carrying. 

"What's  to  do  with  you  ?"  Florence  said  to  her.  Miss  Vann 
walked  on  to  the  next  corner  where  she  stood. 

"Oh,  Miss  Burdett,  I  have  been  in  great  trouble."  she  began 
to  whimper. 


A  Tale  O]?  Wo^ 


THE   ABDUCTION  373 

"Well,  there  is  no  use  of  you  crying — whose  baby  is  that 
you've  got?" 

"It  is  mine." 

"So  you  are  married?" 

"No,  this  is  Rock's  baby." 

"Do  you  and  he  live  together?" 

"No,  he  won't  do  anything  for  me.  I  wish  we  could  go  in 
some  place  where  I  could  talk  to  you." 

"I  can't  go  now,  you  see  ther.e  is  a  lady  waiting  for  me." 

"Yes,  I  see,  I  know  her — that  is  Miss  Vann." 

"If  it's  Rock's  baby,  why  don't  you  make  him  do  something 
for  its  support?" 

"I  did ;  I  summoned  him  to  court,  and  I  got  nothing  but 
abuse.  He  had  a  lawyer  there,  they  called  him  Fitz  some- 
thing. He  said  I  was  a  common  strumpet,  and  that  he  had  a 
dozen  reliable  witnesses  to  prove  it.  I  said  he  was  a  liar,  that 
I  never  went  with  any  one  but  Mr.  Rock,  and  as  God  is  my 
judge,  Florence,  that's  true.  The  judge  got  cross  with  me 
and  shouted  that  if  I  said  another  word  he  would  have  me 
thrown  out  of  court.  I  had  nobody  to  say  a  word  for  me,  but 
the  poor  old  woman  I  live  with,  and  she  looked  as  ragged  and 
forlorn  as  myself.  They  didn't  pay  a  bit  of  attention  to  her. 
The  yoimg  blackguards  he  had  there  laughed  at  her,  and  then 
his  lawyer  said  he  had  Mr.  Rock's  employer,  one  of  the  most 
respected  citizens  of  our  west  side,  to  give  his  client  a  character. 
'Mr.  Hooligan,  please  come  forward.'  *It  is  not  necessary,' 
said  the  judge,  'the  case  is  dismissed.' " 

Florence  looked  at  the  child  when  Margy  gave  it  another 
hitch-up,  and  noticed  it  had  a  terrible  cast  in  its  eyes. 

"Did  the  judge  look  at  the  baby?" 

"Look  at  nothing,  they  would  hardly  let  me  speak." 

The  baby  sat  up  in  Margy's  arms  and  stared  as  best  it  could 
at  Florence,  who  tapped  it  on  the  cheek. 

"How  old  is  he?" 

"Gone  two.  If  I  hadn't  him,  I  know  what  I  would  do,' 
commencing  to  cry. 

"Well,  you  musn't  lose  heart." 

"I  don't  know  what's  to  become  of  us,"  wailed  Margy.  "the 


374  THE   ABDUCTION 

poor  woman  I  live  with  is  back  in  the  rent,  we  may  be  turned 
out  any  day." 

"Did  you  see  Rock  since  the  trial?" 

"Yes,  I  went  over  to  a  saloon  where  he  hangs  out  and 
asked  him  to  do  something  for  me.  I  daren't  tell  you  what 
he  said  to  me,  only  that  if  I  came  running  around  after  him, 
he  would  kick  the  head  ofif  me.  He  would  have  struck  me 
only  for  a  Mr.  Mort,  who  told  him  he  wouldn't  stand  for  it, 
and  pushed  him  away.  Mr.  Mort  gave  me  a  two-dollar  bill. 
Florence,  Miss  Vann  could  do  something  for  me  if  you  would 
ask  her — she  could  get  me  a  place."  Florence  took  her  purse 
from  her  muff  and,  opening  it,  gave  Margy  a  five-dollar  bill. 

"I  don't  deserve  it  of  you,  Florence,"  bursting  into  a  flood 
of  tears. 

"Give  me  your  address,  Margy.  I  see  Miss  \^ann  is  get- 
ting impatient." 

Margy  told  her  where  she  lived. 

Florence  had  shaken  hands  with  her  and  was  turning  to 
leave,  when  Margy  called  her  back. 

"Florence,  do  you  know  that  that  man  Hart  has  got  back?" 

Florence  felt  a  sickening  sensation — the  news  was  as  if  a 
knife  had  pierced  her. 

"No." 

"Yes,  he  got  back  last  week.  I  was  watching  around  where 
Rock  stays  and  I  saw  there  was  something  up,  and  then  I  sees 
Hart  and  a  crowd  with  him  coming  down  the  street.  I  watched 
them  go  into  the  saloon  where  Rock  hangs  out." 

Florence  was  speechless,  she  felt  faint. 

"Florence,"  Margy  continued,  "don't  have  anything  to  do 
with  him ;  he's  a  bad  man.  He  would  murder  you — he's  worse 
than  Rock." 

"I  must  be  going."  When  Florence  reached  Miss  Vann, 
that  lady  chided  her  for  keeping  her  waiting. 

"But  what  ails  you?"  looking  at  Florence.  "You're  like  a 
ghost." 

Florence  told  her  the  cause  of  her  uneasiness.  "I  thought 
they  sent  him  away  for  four  years?" 

"Yes,  they  did,  but  probably  he  got  some  allowance  for  good 


THE   ABDUCTION  375 

conduct  while  in  jail.  Most  of  those  ruffians  know  how  to 
behave  themselves  when  they  have  to,  but  perhaps  he'll  never 
molest  you." 

"I  feel  sure  he  will,  I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"I  do,"  said  Mary,  belligerently,  "leave  him  to  me." 

The  following  morning  Mary  looked  at  her  understudy  as) 
soon  as  she  arrived  at  the  store.    "Any  news?" 

"No." 

"Well,  don't  go  away  this  evening  till  I  go  with  you."  On 
the  third  evening  Mary  Vann  was  seeing  Florence  to  the  car. 

Hart  confronted  them.  Florence,  trembling,  got  behind 
Mary. 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  this  young  lady." 

"What  do  you  want  to  speak  to  her  about?"  replied  Mary, 
looking  him  straight  in  the  face. 

"That's  our  business." 

"Well,  I'll  make  it  my  business ;  if  you,  young  man,  accost 
any  of  our  girls  while  leaving  their  work,  I'll  have  you  ar- 
rested. It's  good  for  you  there's  not  a  policeman  around  now, 
or  I  would  give  you  into  his  hands." 

"You  would,  would  you?" 

"Yes,  sir ;  as  it  is,  I'll  have  you  watched.  I  know  you,  and 
if  I  hear  any  complaints  I'll  have  the  authorities  go  look 
for  you." 

Hart  looked  around  as  if  dreading  some  one  putting  in  an 
appearance.     A  few  people  stood  hearing  the  controversy. 

A  scowl  came  over  his  face,  which  reminded  Florence  of 
Margy's  parting  words  to  her,  "He  would  murder  you." 

"You  don't  think  you  are  going  to  bluff  me,"  shouted  Mary 
to  him. 

"I'll  see  her  later,"  snarled  Hart,  as  he  turned  and  walked 
away. 

When  Florence  arrived  home  her  mother  noticed  her  ex- 
cited condition.  Florence  pleaded  that  she  did  not  feel  well; 
she  was  afraid  to  tell  her  mother  the  real  cause  of  her  trouble, 
as  she  knew  it  would  make  her  unhappy. 

Ere  Florence  had  reached  the  store  the  next  morning,  Miss 
Vann  and  O'Rourke  had  had  a  conference.     O'Rourke  was 


376  THE   ABDUCTION 

loitering  around  the  corner  when  Florence  came  along.  He 
nodded  to  her,  and  followed  her  into  the  store. 

"You're  an  abject  coward,"  was  Mary  Vann's  greeting  to 
her. 

Alderman  Great  dropped  into  Hooligan's  a  few  evenings 
after  the  episode  descrilDed  above,  and  got  into  a  conversation 
with  Hart. 

"Hart,  what  became  of  that  girl  of  yours,  the  one  you  had 
the  row  with  the  Dutchman  over?" 

"She's  around  yet,  I  was  going  to  speak  to  her  the  other 
evening  on  the  street  when  a  she-cat  she  had  with  her  butted 
in  and  wouldn't  let  me.  It's  lucky  for  her  there  was  people 
around  or  I'd  have  given  her  something  she'd  have  never 
forgot." 

"Why,  did  you  let  a  woman  bluff  you  ?''  said  the  alderman, 
laughing. 

"You  know  me,  alderman,  but  I  couldn't  afford  to  have  a 
scene  on  the  street,  especially  since  I  have  only  just  got  home." 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  and  her  will  pull  together  again?" 

"You  bet  your  life,  she  can't  shake  me." 

Hart,  in  spite  of  his  boast,  could  not  forget  the  determined 
stand  of  Florence's  champion.  He  wondered  who  she  was. 
"I'll  go  slow  for  a  time,"  he  thought  to  himself. 

Florence  wanted  to  abandon  her  going  out  at  noon  to 
lunch,  but  Mary  wouldn't  listen  to  it. 

The  alderman  sent  Florence  tickets  for  the  theatre,  but  as 
she  always  had  some  one  with  her  when  she  went,  she  felt 
some  degree  of  security. 

On  one  occasion,  while  out  at  lunch,  she  observed  Hart 
some  distance  away  coming  towards  her,  she  ran  into  a  shoe 
store.  After  she  had  seen  him  pass  the  window  she  ran  back 
to  the  store  without  getting  her  lunch. 

A  few  days  after  this  the  alderman  met  her  a  few  yards 
from  the  store  at  noon. 

"Good  day,  Miss  Burdett,  going  to  lunch?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"May  I  go  with  you?  I  have  something  to  say  that  con- 
cerns you — it's  important." 


THE   ABDUCTION  Z77 

Florence  couldn't  imagine  what  it  was. 

"Let  us  go  in  here — it  is  a  little  private."  They  sought  a 
quiet  corner  at  the  far  end  of  the  store,  where  there  was  a 
table  with  two  chairs.  After  the  lunch  was  served  and  the 
waiter  had  left,  he  told  her  to  go  on  with  her  lunch.  After  a 
time  he  looked  at  her  and  said : 

"What  I  wanted  to  see  you  about  personally,  was  that  I 
happened  to  drop  into  a  place  the  other  evening,  and  I  heard 
your  name  mentioned.  A  young  man  was  talking  to  a  group 
that  Vv^as  listening.  The  young  man's  name  is  Hart.  I  feel 
asham^ed  to  tell  you  what  he  was  saying  about  you." 

Florence  began  to  breath  heavily,  and  turned  pale,  as  if  sick. 

"Of  course,  I  don't  believe  it  was  as  bad  as  he  said.  Now 
if  it  is  not  true  I  want  you  to  let  me  know.  I  think  I  can 
regulate  Mr.  Hart,  you  know  he  lives  in  my  ward." 

"I  have  nothing  to  say,"  Florence  replied,  rising,  "but  if 
you  can  prevent  Hart  from  talking  about  me,  and  compel  him 
to  let  me  alone,  I  will  feel  grateful  to  you." 

Florence  left  the  restaurant  with  a  heavy  heart,  the  alder- 
man chuckling  to  himself  that  he  "had  got  even  with  her"  for 
the  polite  snub  she  had  given  him  on  a  former  occasion. 

It  was  the  middle  of  December,  one  evening,  when  Miss 
Burdett's  mother  had  sent  her  to  the  store  to  purchase  some 
groceries ;  as  she  was  returning,  close  to  the  alley  by  which 
Hart  had  escaped  when  pursued  by  Herman  Wosta,  Hart 
jumped  from  the  alley  in  which  he  had  been  lurking  and  seized 
her  by  the  arm,  before  she  recognized  him.  She  screamed,  a 
number  of  young  men  who  happened  to  be  standing  on  a 
corner  close  by,  ran  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  Hart, 
hearing  the  footsteps,  ran  away. 

Florence  recognized  him  as  he  ran.  She  had  dropped  the 
groceries  in  her  fright. 

"What's  up?"  shouted  the  first  party  that  reached  her. 

"A  man  jumped  out  of  the  alley  and  seized  me,"  she 
murmured,  shaking  in  every  limb. 

"What  way  did  he  go?" 

She  pointed  to  the  alley.  They  started  in  pursuit,  but  no 
trace  of  the  robber,  as  they  surmised  it  was,  could  be  found. 


378  THE    ABDUCTION 

Florence  told  ]\Iary  Vann  the  next  morning. 

"We'll  swear  a  warrant  out  for  him,"  suggested  Mary,  in 
anger. 

"No,  I  couldn't  do  that,  what  would  he  say  about  me  in 
court?  Likely  the  same  gang  of  ruffians  that  was  ready  to 
swear  against  poor  Margy  would  be  there  to  swear  against 
me,  and' then  what  would  my  mother,  grandparents,  or  Uncle 
Herman  think?  They  still  believe  I  am  innocent  of  any 
wrong  doing." 

"So  you  are,"  said  Mary,  warmly,  "and  if  it  was  me  I  would 
carry  a  gun  and  shoot  him  on  sight." 

"I  met  Mr.  Great  one  day  while  out  at  lunch;  he  told  me 
Hart  was  talking  about  me  in  a  saloon ;  the  alderman,  I  be- 
lieve, knows  everything.." 

"Is  that  so?  Then  we  should  probably  see  the  alderman.  I 
understand  you  to  say  he  knows  him  well  ?" 

"Yes,  he's  one  of  his  constituents." 

"Probably  an  ardent  supporter;  if  he  is,  you  need  expect 
little  help  from  that  quarter." 

"I  think  I  should  see  him  anyhow — you  could  arrange  an 
interview  through  Mr.  Prairie  for  me." 

"Yes,  and  that  reminds  me,  I  have  never  had  an  opportunity 
to  thank  him  for  putting  that  girl  to  work  you  were  interested 
in.    I  can  do  both  at  the  same  time." 

-  Mary  Vann  sent  a  note  to  Mr.  Prairie,  telling  him  to  have 
Alderman  Great  call  at  the  store  at  his  earliest  converience,  as 
she  wanted  to  see  him.  The  following  morning  before  ten 
o'clock  the  alderman  called.  Mary  told  him  her  object  in 
sending  for  him.  "It's  Florence  that  wants  to  see  you."  Flor- 
ence came  over  to  where  he  and  ]\Iiss  Vann  were  talking. 

"You  want  to  see  me,  Miss  Burdett?" 

"Yes.  it's  about  a  private  matter,  I  want  to  talk  to  you 
alone." 

"Well,  say  I  meet  you  at  the  restaurant  where  we  have  taken 
lunch  together." 

"Yes,  that  will  do,  I  will  be  there  a  few  minutes  past  twelve." 

When  Florence  arrived  at  the  restaurant  the  alderman  was 
there  ahead  of  her. 


THE   ABDUCTION  379 

"What  will  you  eat,  Miss  Burdett?"  he  said,  as  soon  as  she 
was  seated. 

"I  cannot  eat  anything;  I  will  jusi  take  a  cup  of  tea." 

"Why,  are  you  not  well?" 

"No." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  that."  When  the  order  had  been  served, 
and  the  waiter  gone,  he  looked  at  her,  and  in  his  blandest 
manner,  inquired  what  he  could  do  for  her.  She  told  him  of 
Hart's  accosting  her  and  Miss  Vann  on  the  street,  and  of  his 
later  attacking  her  near  her  home ;  that  she  was  afraid  of  her 
life  of  him. 

He  looked  serious,  as  if  thinking  for  a  moment.  "You 
don't  want  to  make  up  with  him  then?" 

"No,  never." 

"Do  your  people  know  the  close  relationship  you  have  had 
with  him  in  the  past?"  looking  her  straight  in  the  face  until 
she  held  her  head  down  to  avoid  his  piercing  gaze. 

"No,  my  Uncle  Herman  was  suspicious;  he  and  Hart  had  a 
fight  one  night,  and  Herman  got  a  warrant  out  for  him ;  but 
that  was  before  he  was  sent  away.  It  would  break  my  mother's 
heart  to  know,"  as  the  tears  began  to  roll  down  her  cheeks. 

"Well,  don't  cry,"  he  said,  soothingly,  "I'll  see  what  I  can 
do,  but  you  know  he's  a  desperate  character,  and  I  myself 
wouldn't  like  to  cross  him.  Maybe  I  can  buy  him  off."  In 
parting  he  held  her  hand  a  great  deal  longer  than  necessary. 
"She's  easy,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  made  a  bee  line  to  the 
City  Hall. 

Reaching  the  police  department,  he  inquired  if  the  chief 
were  in.  On  being  told  he  was,  he  walked  into  the  private  of- 
fice without  being  announced. 

"Hello,  alderman,  come  in,  sit  down.  Well,  what's  your 
trouble  today  ?     Some  of  your  fellows  in  difficulties  ?" 

"No.  chief,  all  my  boys  are  on  their  good  behavior." 

The  chief  laughed  heartily,  "Well,  then,  I  suppose  it's  a  job 
you  want  for  some  of  them?" 

"No,  you're  wrong  again,  chief." 

"Well,  what  is  it?  you  know  anything  I  can  do  for  you  I 
will." 


380  THE    ABDUCTION 

"You  know  that  fellow  Hart  that  got  out  of  the  pen 
lately  ?" 

"You  mean  Red  ?" 

"Yes.  Well,  chief,  before  he  was  sent  over,  he  had  a  girl 
that  he  played  with.  While  he  was  away  she  got  on  the 
square." 

"Or  formed  another  alliance,"  said  the  chief,  grinning. 

"Well,  no  matter  how  it  is.  Hart  is  determined  to  persecute 
her.    She's  deadly  afraid  of  him." 

"Then  why  don't  she  swear  a  warrant  out  for  him?" 

"For  family  reasons ;  her  people  are  eminently  respectable 
and  don't  know  how  close  they  were;  and,  of  course,  since  he 
served  a  term  that  makes  it  worse." 

"Well,  how  am  I  to  interfere?  I  can't  send  him  down  with- 
out a  charge  against  him." 

"Bluf¥  him!  He  won't  know  but  what  you  have  a  dozen 
charges  against  him;  but  let  him  know  he  must  let  that  girl 
alone." 

"Tell  him  he  must  keep  off  other  people's  grass,  eh,  alder- 
man?   Well,  I'll  see  what  I  can  do." 

"Do  this  for  me,  chief,  and  the  first  opportunity  I  have  to 
serve  you,  you  can  count  on  me." 

As  soon  as  the  alderman  left  the  chief  rang  his  bell.  His 
messenger  responded. 

"Is  McCarthy  in?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  think  he  is." 

"Tell  him  I  want  to  see  him."  When  McCarthy  arrived  the 
chief  turned  to  him.    "Mac,  you  know  Red  Hart  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  hunt  him  up  and  tell  him  I  want  to  see  him.  You 
needn't  scare  him,  tell  him  it's  nothing  serious,  but  I  must  see 
him  ;  tell  him  to  be  sure  to  come,  or  I'll  have  to  bring  him." 

"I  might  not  be  able  to  see  him  until  evening — he  hangs 
around  Hooligan's." 

"Well,  the  morning  will  do,  but  be  sure  and  find  him." 

That  evening  INIcCarthy  sauntered  into  Hooligan's ;  Hart 
was  playing  cards.  "Is  this  an  honest  game?"  inquired  Mc- 
Carthy, smiling  at  the  players. 


THE   ABDUCTION  381 

"How  are  you,  Mac?"  said  Rock,  grinning  up  at  the  officer. 

Hooligan,  who  was  behind  the  bar,  never  as  much  as  rec- 
ognized him.  He  knew  he  was  a  stiff,  and  so  didn't  deign  to 
notice  him. 

McCarthy  waited  until  the  game  was  over,  when  he  touched 
Red  on  the  shoulder.  "I  want  to  see  you  for  a  second."  See- 
ing the  crowd  start,  he  continued,  "He'll  be  back  in  a  minute — • 
you  needn't  break  up  the  game." 

McCarthy  and  Hart  went  to  the  far  end  of  the  bar,  beyond 
where  the  regulars  were  perched. 

"Hart,  the  chief  wants  to  see  you ;  he  told  me  to  tell  you 
that  it  was  only  a  friendly  call,  but  he  must  see  you." 

"What  docs  he  want  to  see  me  about?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  you'd  better  go  see  him ;  if  you  don't  he's 
likely  to  get  mad  and  send  out  after  you." 

"Well,  I'll  go  around  in  the  morning  about  ten  o'clock ;  but 
I  know  he's  nothing  against  me." 

The  following  morning  when  Hart  showed  up  at  the  office, 
the  chief  greeted  him  sociably,  "Come  in,  Red,  and  sit  down ; 
do  you  smoke?    Take  a  cigar." 

Red  helped  himself  from  the  chief's  box.  After  he  had  lit 
his  cigar  the  chief  picked  up  some  papers  from  his  desk,  and 
revolving  on  his  chair,  looking  at  the  papers  in  his  hand,  said : 
"Red,  I  have  a  very  serious  charge  against  you  here,  and  I 
have  been  asked  to  press  it." 

Red  began  to  get  a  little  nervous. 

"I  told  them  I  hated  like  hell  to  do  it,  that  you  had  only  been 
back  a  short  time,  and  T  wanted  to  give  you  a  chance.  They 
promised  me  they  would  let  up,  on  conditions.  I  told  them  I 
would  see  you,  that  you  were  a  reasonable  kind  of  fellow,  and 
that  you  would  do  what  was  right ;  you  know  that  was  stretch- 
ing it  some,"  smiling  at  Hart. 

Hart  couldn't  for  the  life  of  him  know  what  the  chief  was 
driving  at. 

"I  don't  know  that  you've  got  anything  against  me.  chief?" 

"Well.  I'll  tell  you;  before  you  went  down  you  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  young  girl,  you  know  how  ;  I  needn't  tell 
you,  it's  all  down  here,  and  since  you  have  been  out  you've 


382  THE   ABDLXTION 

been  persecuting  her.  Her  friends  want  me  to  go  after  you 
with  a  hot  stick,  but  I  said  no.  Now,  what  I  want  you  to  do, 
and  in  fact,  you  must  do,  is  let  that  girl  alone.  If  you  don't,  you 
might  as  well  bid  good-bye  to  your  Chicago  friends  for  a  long 
time."  Hart  got  ver}-  fidgety  on  his  chair ;  he  was  going  to 
talk  when  the  chief  held  up  his  hand,  ''X"ot  a  word;  now,  hear 
me  out.  If  either  you  or  any  of  your  pals  speak  to  her,  or  if 
she  is  molested  by  any  one,  it  will  be  me  or  you  for  it."  He 
touched  his  bell  as  he  concluded.  When  his  messenger  came 
he  said,  "Tell  ]\IcCarthy  to  come  in."  xA.s  soon  as  McCarthy 
came  the  chief,  addressing  him,  said,  "You  know  Mr.  Hart, 
Mac  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  know  him  quite  well." 

"Well,  he  and  I  have  come  to  a  mutual  understanding  about 
that  little  afifair,  but  I  want  you  to  keep  track  of  him,  because 
there's  no  telling  how  soon  we  may  have  to  go  gunning  for 
him.  Now,  Hart,  be  a  good  boy,  and  mind  what  I  say  to  you. 
There,  take  another  cigar,  you  can  smoke  it  on  the  way  home ; 
and  you,  McCarthy,  mind  what  I  tell  you.  Good-morning. 
Mr.  Hart."  Hart  again  essayed  to  speak,  but  the  chief  held 
up  his  hand,  "Show  Mr.  Hart  out,  Mac." 

When  Hart  reached  the  street  he  stood  dumbfounded.  He 
felt  worse  than  he  did  when  he  heard  the  verdict  read  which 
assigned  him  to  Joliet  for  four  years. 

"She's  told  everything  to  that  b that  bluffed  me  on  the 

street  that  day  I  met  them,  and  she  is  the  one  that's  knocking 
me,  curse  her." 

The  following  morning  the  good  alderman  hurried  to  the 
ofifice  of  the  chief.     "Well,  chief,  did  you  see  that  party?" 

"Come  and  sit  down,  alderman."  The  chief  went  on  to 
describe  how  he  had  bluffed  Hart.  The  alderman  laughed 
heartily.  "I've  put  him  under  probation  to  McCarthy,  but 
there's  no  danger." 

"Did  you  scare  him  good?" 

"I  think  I  did — I  put  the  fear  of  God  in  his  heart." 

On  leaving  the  chief's  office  the  alderman  hurried  to  the 
Cleveland  Store,  where  he  went  over  and  whispered  to  Flor- 
ence, "Meet  me  at  the  restaurant  at  noon,  important." 


THE   ABDUCTION  383 

Florence  was  only  too  eager  to  hear  what  the  alderman  had 
to  say,  so  hurried  to  the  rendezvous. 

"I'm  tired  and  weary,"  remarked  the  alderman,  as  soon  as 
Florence  was  seated,  "I  was  up  nearly  all  night  hunting  that 
fellow." 

"Did  you  find  him?    What  did  he  say?" 

"Let  the  waiter  get  away  first.  I  think  I  should  have  some 
wine.     I  am  jaded;  what  say  you  if  we  have  a  bottle?" 

"Don't  ask  me,  Mr.  Great,  if  I  drank  anything  now  it  would 
go  to  my  head  and  I  wouldn't  be  able  to  attend  to  my  business." 

"Well,  we'll  let  it  go;  some  other  time.  I've  fixed  that  mat- 
ter up  for  you,  vou'll  never  have  any  more  trouble  with  Mr. 
Hart." 

Florence  felt  her  spirits  rising.  "How  did  you  do  it?"  she 
inquired,  eagerly. 

"I  simply  had  to  buy  him  off,  there  was  no  other  way. 

A  shadow  crossed  her  countenance. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  "I  saw  there  was  nothing  else  to  do,  so 
I  had  to  put  up.  The  damned  rascal  stood  out  for  a  long  time, 
until  I  gave  him  his  price."  He  said  this  in  an  off-handed 
manner,  as  if  it  was  a  mere  matter  of  business. 

"I  feel  under  great  obligations  to  you,  Mr.  Great.  I'm  sure 
I  will  never  be  able  to  repay  you." 

"O,  yes,  you  will,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her. 

She  held  her  head  down — she  had  some  inkling  of  his 
meaning. 

"Now  hurry  back  to  your  work.  You  need  have  no  fear.  I 
will  meet  you  some  evening  in  the  near  future." 

Florence,  only  too  eager  to  go,  rushed  off  and  told  Miss 
Vann  of  the  result  of  the  mission  they  had  intrusted  to  the 
good  alderman. 

Miss  Vann  looked  wise,  but  made  no  comments,  to  Flor- 
ence's surprise. 

Great  dropped  into  Hooligan's  that  same  evening. 

"W^here's  the  boys  tonight,"  he  inquired,  noticing  their 
absence. 

"Mort,  Phipps  and  Bert  have  gone  away  for  a  few  days. 
Hart  and  Rock  were  here  about  an  hour  ago.     They  went 


384  THE    ABDUCTION 

somewhere  and  took  young  Schultz  with  them,  they  may  be 
back  soon." 

"Hooligan,  this  is  a  tough  job  of  mine,  I've  been  running 
around  all  day  helping  out  our  people.  I've  hardly  a  leg  to 
stand  on ;  give  our  friends  a  drink  and  I'll  go  home.  I'll  drop 
in  tomorrow  night,  when  I'm  passing." 

The  next  night  the  alderman  called ;  Hooligan  had  casually 
announced  his  coming,  and  when  he  arrived,  Hart  and  Rock 
were  present. 

"Good  evening,  Hart;  hello,  Rock,  how  are  they  coming?" 
Rock  said  "All  right."  Hart  seemed  out  of  sorts.  "What's  up 
with  you?"  looking  at  Hart;  "something  wrong?" 

"No,  not  much." 

"Well,  take  something."  The  alderman  assumed  to  be  in  the 
best  of  spirits,  ordered  another  drink.  Hart  and  he  standing 
close  together. 

"Anything  wrong?"  whispered  the  alderman,  smiling,  "you 
look  like  a  fellow  whose  best  girl  had  gone  back  on  him." 

Hart  smiled,  as  he  said,  "Maybe  that's  the  trouble." 

"Why,  haven't  you  made  up  yet?" 

"No,  nor  not  likely  to." 

"Oh,  probably  she's  soured  on  you  on  account  of  that  trouble 
you  got  into ;  she'll  come  round  all  right — let  on  you  don't 
know  her.  That's  what  brings  them — probably  some  of  her 
friends  are  butting  in  and  knocking  you." 

"Yes,  I  blame  that  judy  in  the  store  where  she  works.  I 
think  she  told  her  everything,  and  she's  put  bad  in  her  head ; 
but  I'm  going  to  take  your  advice  for  a  time,  and  cut  her." 

"That's  right,"  replied  Great.  "Hooligan,  give  us  another 
drink,  I  must  be  going," 

A  month  later,  while  Florence  was  walking  along  State 
street,  she  saw  Hart  coming  in  the  direction  she  was  going. 
She  felt  a  tremor,  fearing  he  would  stop  her.  When  he  was 
near  enough,  he  looked  her  over  from  head  to  foot  and  then 
looking  straight  before  him,  passed  her  without  the  slightest 
sign  of  recognition.  She  couldn't  resist  the  temptation  of 
turning  and  looking  after  him,  but  he  went  on  his  way. 

The  alderman  continued  to  furnish  Florence  with  theatre 


TPTE    ABDUCTION  385 

tickets,  they  dined  together  occasionally,  Miss  Vann  invariably 
being  present.  Florence  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  suggestive 
remarks,  or  laughed  them  oft.  On  one  occasion  he  told  her 
he  had  got  himself  into  trouble  over  her. 

"Howe's  that?"  she  inquired. 

"Well,  that  fellow  Hart  is  sulking  on  me ;  you  see  he  is 
very  popular  with  the  gang  in  our  ward,  he  attends  all  the 
Saturday  night  dances,  and  is  quite  a  fellow  in  certain  circles. 
I'm  afraid  he  has  been  telling  some  of  them  the  deal  I  made 
with  him  over  you.  The  other  day  he  tapped  me  for  some 
dough,  and  I  had  to  give  it  to  him.  You  see,  I  run  again  next 
spring,  and  I  don't  want  those  fellows  to  sour  on  me,  especially 
Hart,  not  that  I  have  any  use  for  him,  but  as  he  is  a  political 
factor  in  my  district  I  can't  afTord  to  fall  out  with  him." 

This  dialogue  struck  home.  It  gave  Florence  a  chill ;  she 
felt  how  much  she  was  dependent  on  her  friend. 

The  firmer  Florence  resisted  the  alderman's  suit,  the  more 
he  became  infatuated  with  her.  It  was  the  old  story  of  sour 
grapes.  He  began  to  think  he  was  wasting  his  precious  time ; 
he  felt  so  bitter  on  one  occasion  after  she  had  laughed  at  him, 
that  he  had  a  notion  to  inspire  Hart,  to  give  him  a  quiet  tip. 
His  jealousy  and  insatiable  desire  prevented  him. 

The  council  was  about  to  adjourn  the  latter  part  of  June, 
all  the  aldermen  were  going  to  take  a  well  merited  (?)  vaca- 
tion after  their  arduous  duties  on  behalf  of  the  corporations 
and  the  effort  required  in  conning  their  constituents.  Great 
resolved  to  go  abroad. 

Florence  and  he  were  dining  together  when  he  told  her  oi 
his  intention. 

"I  will  be  gone  about  six  weeks." 

"I  would  dearly  like  to  travel,"  she  said,  "if  I  had  the 
money." 

"You  don't  need  any  money,"  he  replied,  eagerly.  "I  have 
lots  of  money — why  not  come  with  me?" 

"I  would  lose  my  position,"  she  replied,  smiling  at  him. 

"Never  mind  your  position;  you  won't  need  it  when  you 
get  back." 

"What  would  Mrs.  Great  think?"  smiling. 


386  THE   ABDUCTION 

"O,  don't  let  that  trouble  you,"  he  said,  warmly.  "I  provide 
for  her  adequately." 

"Why  don't  you  take  her  with  you?" 

"I  would  much  rather  take  you." 

"Ah,  alderman,  I'm  afraid  you  are  a  little  naughty.  I  wish 
you  a  pleasant  journey,  however,  and  will  be  glad  to  welcome 
you  back." 

"I  suppose  you'll  see  me  oft',  anyhow?" 

"Sure." 

"Then  I  leave  on  the  third,  by  the  eleven-forty-five  over  the 
Pennsylvania.  I'll  expect  you  to  take  supper  with  me  that 
evening,  and  give  me  a  little  of  your  company.  You  know  I 
have  done  a  good  deal  for  you,  and  would  do  more  if  you 
would  let  me." 

"Well,  I'll  see  you  off,  anyway,  and  when  you  come  back — " 

"What,  when  I  come  back?" 

"Wait  till  you  come  back  and  you'll  see." 

"Well,  the  night  I'm  going  don't  bring  Miss  Vann  with  you. 
I  want  to  have  you  all  to  myself." 

Florence  smiled  at  his  prohibition  of  her  friend. 

Florence  felt  under  deep  obligations  to  him,  but  had  long 
since  recognized  his  design.  She  liked  him  as  a  friend,  and 
enjoyed  his  company.  She  was  willing  to  flirt  with  him,  though 
she  knew  it  was  wrong,  but  how  could  she  refuse  him,  after 
all  he  had  done  for  her  in  the  Hart  matter  ? 

In  the  many  gay  resorts  they  had  attended  together  it  was 
no  uncommon  sight  to  see  married  men  accompanied  by  single 
women,  and  married  women  in  the  company  of  single  men ; 
some  she  knew  were  affinities,  soul  mates,  as  modern  society 
calls  them — it  was  the  fashion,  and  why  should  she  be  an  ex- 
ception. She  prided  herself  that  she  could  take  care  of  her- 
self— she  was  no  longer  a  girl. 

The  night  of  his  departure  she  met  him  as  per  arrangement 
in  a  downtown  hotel.  She  felt  glad  he  was  going — he  would 
be  gone  six  weeks — it  would  be  a  relief  to  her.  He  was  wait- 
ing for  her  at  the  supper  table.  She  smiled  when  she  noticed 
two  bottles  of  champagne  in  a  cooler.  "What  are  you  going 
to  do  with  all  that  champagne?"  she  inquired. 


THE   ABDUCTION  387 

"Drink  it ;  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  I  see  you  again,  and 
as  my  train  don't  leave  till  eleven  forty-five,  I'm  going  to 
enjoy  myself." 

The  best  supper  that  the  capable  chef  of  the  hotel  could 
prepare  was  served,  a  special  waiter  stood  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance to  serve.  There  were  four  long  hours  to  wait  before  the 
alderman  would  have  to  take  his  departure.  One  of  the  bot- 
tles was  opened  immediately  and  consumed  before  supper  was 
nearly  over. 

Florence  assumed  her  most  winning  gaiety. 

Mr.  Great  talked  of  their  many  meetings,  dwelling  occasion- 
ally on  her  past  troubles  and  future  prospects.  To  many  of 
his  allusions  she  had  to  smile  and  shake  her  head ;  she  would 
humor  him,  however — in  a  brief  time  he  would  be  gone.  The 
second  bottle  was  broached,  she  began  to  feel  the  exhilaration 
of  the  sparkling  wine ;  after  a  time  the  reaction  set  in,  she  be- 
gan to  feel  drowsy.  She  wished  him  away,  and  she  at  home 
and  in  bed.  Ere  eleven  t)'clock  she  began  to  weary ;  the  lights 
began  to  grow  dim  to  her  optics. 

"Well,  I'll  have  to  be  going,  I'll  just  have  about  time  to 
catch  the  train,  so  get  your  hat  on,"  She  had  some  difficulty 
in  arranging  it. 

Arriving  at  the  depot  there  was  still  a  few  minutes  before 
the  train  would  pull  out,  "You  might  as  well  sit  in  the  drawing 
room  which  I  have  engaged  until  the  train  is  ready  to  start." 


A  violent  jar  caused  by  the  tightening  of  the  air  brakes  on 
the  train,  as  it  was  pulling  into  Upper  Sandusky,  awoke  her 
to  a  realization  of  her  position. 


Chapter  XXXIX 


THE  AFFINITY 


Florence  Burdett,  awaking  to  the  terrible  position  she  found 
herself  in,  reproached  the  alderman  bitterly,  midst  a  fiood  of 
tears. 

"You  have  ruined  me!"  she  exclaimed,  in  her  frenzy;  "you 
have  taken  me  from  home  and  friends — you're  a  scoundrel." 

"You'd  better  not  speak  so  loud,  the  people  in  the  car  will 
hear  you." 

"I  don't  care,"  at  the  top  of  her  voice.  He  left  the  room, 
seeing  it  was  futile  to  argue  with  her,  and  retired  to  the  smoker, 
where  he  stayed  for  over  an  hour.  When  he  returned,  she  was 
more  composed,  she  had  cried  her  fill. 

"Tis  fate,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I  am  now  an  outcast." 

"I  have  ordered  some  breakfast  brought  to  our  room.  I've 
told  the  porter  you  are  indisposed ;  when  he  comes,  don't  make 
a  show  of  me."  He  had  become  alarmed.  "You  must  eat,  any- 
how." She  made  no  reply;  she  was  nursing  her  wrath.  Ere 
she  reached  New  York  she  realized  the  hopelessness  of  her 
situation — there  was  no  turnmg  back. 

"Where  are  you  going  to  take  me?"  she  inquired. 

"London,  Paris,  Berlin ;  wherever  you  wish  to  go." 

In  New  York  he  bought  her  an  outfit  suitable  for  the  pas- 
sage across  the  ocean,  took  her  to  Tiffany's  and  bought  her  a 
diamond  ring,  for  which  he  paid  six  hundred  dollars.  "You'll 
need  another  ring,"  as  he  saw  her  look  at  the  costly  jewel  on 
her  finger.  She  recognized  his  meaning — she  knew  it  was 
absolutely  necessary,  so  raised  no  objection. 

During  the  voyage  across  she  was  deathly  sick.  He  was  all 
attention  to  her  wants,  lavish  in  his  expenditures.  The  ship's 
doctor  was  called  in  to  minister  to  her. 

"A  little  seasickness,  that's  all — she'll  be  better  in  a  day  or 
two.  then  she'll  enjoy  the  trip." 


THE   AFFINITY  389 

"You  think,  then,  doctor,  there's  no  danger?" 
"Not  a  particle,  Mr.  Great,  in  fact,  she'll  be  the  better  for  it." 
A  brief  stay  in  Liverpool,  then  on  to  London,  the  greatest 
of  all  modern  cities.  Mr.  Great  increased  Florence's  ward- 
robe in  the  stores  in  Regent  street.  She  was  dazzled  by  the 
magnificent  display  of  ladies'  finery,  she  chose  what  she 
wanted,  there  was  no  stint.  Staying  at  one  of  the  best  hotels 
in  the  city,  they  drove  through  Regent's  Park  and  looked  on 
the  gay  scene  of  English  aristocracy  on  Rotten  Row,  as  it  is 
called,  in  grand  parade ;  the  Crystal  Palace,  the  Art  Gallery, 
British  Museum.  Houses  of  Parliament,  St.  Paul's,  West- 
minster Abbey,  and  the  Tower  of  London,  where  the  beef- 
eaters showed  her  where  Lady  Jane  Grey  lost  her  head.  At 
night  he  took  her  to  the  theatres,  his  object  being  to  give  her 
no  time  to  think. 

A  week  in  London,  and  on  to  Dover,  from  Dover  across  the 
English  Channel  to  Calais,  and  then  to  Paris,  where  they  visited, 
amongst  other  places,  the  Louvre,  the  depository  of  many  of 
the  great  works  of  art ;  the  Pantheon,  a  trip  to  the  Palace  at 
Versailles,  with  its  beautiful  gardens  and  its  pleasant  and  pain- 
ful memories ;  took  her  to  the  Invalides,  where  she  gazed  on 
the  sarcophagus  of  the  greatest  soldier  of  whom  history  has 
any  record — 

"Who,  born  no  King,  made  monarchs  draw  his  car ; 
Whose  game  was  empires,  and  whose  stake  was  thrones ; 
Whose  table,  Earth — whose  dice  were  human  bones ; 
Though  first  in  glory,  deepest  in  reverse ; 
He  tasted  empires,  blessings,  and  its  curse." 

Great  took  her  to  the  Comedie  Francais,  where  she  had 
to  laugh  at  the  gestures  of  the  French  actors,  and  was  some- 
what surprised  at  the  dash,  liberty,  and  suggestiveness  of  the 
French  soubrettes,  who  took  part  in  the  play.  On  Sunday  he 
took  her  to  Notre  Dame.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever 
been  in  a  Catholic  church — she  was  astonished  at  the  magni- 
tude of  the  building,  its  splendid  statuary,  but,  above  all,  the 
solemnity  and  grandeur  of  the  services    impressed  her. 


390  THE   AFFINITY 

They  dined  at  the  cafes  that  Hned  the  boulevards  branching 
from  the  Place  de  la  Concorde.  In  the  contemplation  of  the 
many  wonders  she  beheld  she  began  to  forget  her  troubles,  or 
rather  had  no  time  to  think  of  them.  Great  began  to  see  her 
spirits  rising.  Here,  too,  he  added  to  her  wardrobe,  by  a  visit 
to  Worth,  where  she  purchased  a  dress  that  far  exceeded  in 
cost  anything  that  she  had  ever  dreamed  of  possessing;  here 
he  also  added  to  her  jewelry  by  buying  her  a  Swiss  watch  of 
the  finest  make,  with  a  chain  to  correspond ;  eight  days  in 
Paris,  and  on  to  Berlin,  where  they  visited  all  the  sights.  She 
noticed  the  difference  between  "gay  Paree"  and  the  staid 
Berlinese.  She  was  in  part  of  German  parentage,  and  felt  a 
special  interest  in  the  capital  of  the  country  from  which  her 
grandparents  came.  She  thought  how,  under  different  cir- 
cumstances, she  would  have  liked  to  tell  them  of  what  she  had 
seen  in  the  Faderland.  The  art  gallery  here  was  a  source  of 
delight  to  her,  as  was  a  visit  to  the  Comedy  Theatre.  She 
knew  a  little  German  which  enchanced  her  appreciation  of  the 
play.  On  one  occasion  while  walking  in  Unter  den  Linden,  she 
took  Great's  arm.  She  was  not  Great's  wife,  but  had,  for  ap- 
pearance sake,  to  act  as  if  she  were. 

He,  seeing  her  interest  in  Germany  and  its  people,  took 
her  to  some  of  the  smaller  towns,  so  that  she  might  visit  the 
rural  districts,  the  quaint  German  homes.  At  the  end  of  six 
weeks  he  told  her  they  must  think  of  going  home. 

"I  would  like  to  stay  here  forever,"  she  replied.  She  felt  she 
had  no  home  to  go  to. 

He  told  her  all  would  be  well  for  the  future,  that  he  adored 
her  and  would  never  desert  her. 

She  shook  her  head. 

The  trip  across  was  devoid  of  interest,  he  played  cards  in 
the  cabin  when  not  attending  to  "his  beautiful  wife,"  as  the 
people  thought.  She  read  and  mingled  freely  with  the  lady 
passengers,  who  saw  in  her  a  woman  of  refinement.  Two 
days  in  New  York  and  then  to  Chicago.  As  she  reached  the 
city  of  her  birth  and  misfortunes,  she  became  gloomy.  Mr. 
Great  saw  to  the  expressing  of  her  trunks,  which  he  directed 
to  be  taken  to  a  private  hotel  on  the  north  side  of  the  city. 


THE   AFFINITY  391 

He  went  with  her  in  a  carriage  and  introduced  her  as  his 
sister  to  the  proprietor,  who  wasn't  very  particular  anyhow. 
When  the  alderman  departed,  he  kissed  Florence  good-bye, 
saying : 

"I  will  be  around  this  evening.  I  have  considerable  work  to 
do  during  the  day." 

She  waited  until  it  was  dark.  A  desire  to  visit  the  neighbor- 
hood of  her  old  home  came  over  her  and  she  could  not  resist 
it.  She  dressed  in  her  most  modest  garb,  wearing  a  heavy 
veil,  and  set  out.  Reaching  the  little  street  on  which  the  cot- 
tage stood,  she  looked  to  see  if  she  was  observed.  She  kept 
well  within  the  shadow  of  the  houses — her  heart  beat  fast — 
she  looked  in  every  direction  for  fear  of  meeting  some  one  she 
knew.  As  she  came  opposite  her  former  home  she  saw  that 
all  was  dark.  She  noticed  that  a  large  card  was  nailed  on  the 
door.  She  surmised  its  meaning,  her  heart  sank  within  her  as 
she  crossed  the  road  and  read — 

THIS  COTTAGE  FOR  RENT 
Apply  at  No.  — 

She  retraced  her  steps  and  went  back  to  the  hotel  with  a 
heavy  heart. 

When  Great  came  he  found  her  weeping,  but  he  must  leave, 
there  was  a  meeting  he  must  attend.    - 

Florence  resolved  the  next  day  to  see  Mary  Vann.  She,  at 
least,  had  little  need  to  reproach  her. 

About  the  time  she  knew  the  Cleveland  Store  would  close 
for  the  evening,  she  stood  som.e  distance  away,  in  the  direction 
she  knew  Miss  Vann  would  come.  After  a  time  she  saw  her 
approaching,  and  stood  in  front  of  her  former  friend. 

"Why,  Florence !  where  have  you  come  from  ?  Where  have 
you  been?" 

*T  have  been  away,  Mary.     I  have  been  in  Europe." 

"O,  dear  me !  what  trouble  you  have  given  to  all  concerned 
in  you ;  why  did  you  go  away  even  without  telling  me,  who 
had  always  been  your  friend  ?" 

'T  could  not  help  it,  I  was  led  away.  What  has  become  of 
my  mother  ?    What  did  they  do  when  they  found  I  was  gone  ?" 


392  THE    AFFINITY 

"We  had  a  fearful  time,  but  T  can't  tell  you  here ;  come  and 
we'll  have  supper  and  then  you  can  come  to  my  rooms  and  I'll 
tell  you  all." 

When  Mary  V'ann  and  Florence  reached  Mary's  apartments, 
the  former  said,  "Now,  tell  me  first,  how  you  came  to  go  away 
— tell  the  truth." 

Florence  told  her  the  whole  circumstances  that  led  to  her 
eoing,  and  where  and  with  whom  she  had  been. 

"I  am  very  sorr}-,  Florence,"  as  she  heard  the  last  of  the 
story.  "If  it  had  been  some  single  fellow,  we  might  have  com- 
pelled him  to  do  the  right  thing  by  you ;  you'll  probably  be  his 
plaything  for  a  time,  then  he  may  discard  you." 

"He  has  promised  he  never  would." 

"Ah !  promises  of  men !  pshaw !  I  am  afraid,  however,  there 
is  no  hope  of  a  reconciliation  between  you  and  your  family. 
Herman  swears  you'll  never  darken  the  door  of  the  house  he 
lives  in,  that  the  moment  vou  come  in,  he  goes  out  forever. 
His  father  is  equally  determined.  At  first  they  felt  sore  at  me, 
as  if  I  was  in  a  measure  to  blame,  but  seeing  the  effort  I  made 
to  locate  you  they  have  kind  of  forgiven  me.  I  have  met  Her- 
man a  few  times  since,  I  tried  to  say  a  few  words  for  you ; 
that  you  were  unfortunate,  but  it  only  made  him  mad ;  the  last 
time  I  saw  him  he  told  me  to  never  mention  your  name  again ; 
that  you  were  dead  to  the  whole  family,  that  your  mother's 
heart  was  broken  and  that  she  was  resigned." 

Florence  could  not  suppress  her  sobs.  "My  poor  mother," 
she  exclaimed,  as  the  tears  flowed  in  profusion  from  her  eyes. 
When  she  got  somewhat  composed,  she  inquired,  "What  hap- 
pened when  they  missed  me?" 

"Your  mother.  Mrs.  Long  and  Herman  came  into  the  store 
as  soon  as  it  was  open  the  morning  after  you  left  to  inquire 
for  you.  I  was  very  much  surprised.  I  told  them  that  you  had 
left  at  the  usual  hour  on  the  previous  evening,  as  I  thought, 
to  go  home ;  that  you  never  said  one  word  to  me  that  would 
lead  me  to  believe  otherwise.  Your  mother  was  in  such  dis- 
tress she  could  hardly  say  anything.  Mrs.  Long  asked  me 
if  I  could  suggest  any  place  you  could  possibly  go.  I  told 
them  no.     I  asked  them  if  they  had  inquired  at  the  police 


THE   AFFINITY  393 

Station,  that  you  might  be  hurt,  run  over,  maybe.  I  didn't 
know  what  to  think  at  the  time,  so  told  them  I  would  go  to 
the  police  department  with  them.  We  gave  the  police  a  full 
description  of  you.  They  made  inquiry  at  all  the  hospitals. 
The  chief  sent  a  number  of  men  to  visit  the  resorts.  I  told 
them  that  was  futile,  that  you  were  a  good  girl.  He  asked  me 
in  confidence,  if  there  was  any  man  that  you  were  keeping 
company  with.  I  told  him  no ;  of  course,  I  didn't  mention  the 
Hart  affair,  feeling  confident  that  that  episode  was  closed.  We 
gave  him  your  picture,  which  appeared  in  the  papers  with  a 
description  of  the  clothes  you  wore.  The  papers  published  it 
with  an  announcement,  reading,  'Mysterious  Disappearance  of 
a  Young  Woman,'  etc.  On  the  third  day  Herman  came  in 
very  much  excited ;  he  wanted  to  know  if  I  could  tell  him  any- 
thing about  that  fellow  Hart ;  I  said  I  couldn't,  but  that  I  didn't 
think  that  you  would  have  anything  to  do  with  him.  He  said 
he  was  going  to  find  out.  and  that  he  would  go  over  and  see 
the  chief  of  police  right  away.  'You  have  seen  him,'  he  said 
to  me,  'I  want  you  to  come  with  me  and  help  to  give  a  descrip- 
tion of  him.     Your  uncle  was  so  persistent  I  had  to  go. 

"As  soon  as  Herman  mentioned  Hart,  the  chief  looked  hard 
at  us  both. 

"  'Did  she  keep  company  with  that  fellow  ?'  said  the  chief.  He 
was  in  a  study.  I  spoke  up  and  said  that  you  had  met  him  a 
year  or  two  ago,  but  I  didn't  believe  you  would  be  found  in 
his  company. 

"  T  agree  with  you,'  said  the  chief. 

"Herman  wouldn't  be  satisfied,  he  wanted  the  chief  to  find 
Hart  and  question  him. 

"  'Well,'  he  said,  ultimately,  'to  satisfy  myself,  as  well  as  you 
people.  I  will  have  him  brought  in ;  come  around  tomorrow 
about  eleven  o'clock  and  I'll  have  him  here.' 

"The  next  day  your  mother.  Airs.  Long,  Herman,  and  my- 
self went  to  the  chief's  office ;  they  brought  Hart  in,  he  looked 
daggers  at  Herman  and  me.  My !  but  that  fellow's  a  bad  one. 
The  chief  questioned  him.  He  protested  he  hadn't  seen  you  for 
months,  he  didn't  want  to  see  you,  you  could  go  to  hell  for 
what  he  cared,  that  vou  were  no  good,  anyway ;  at  last  the 


394  THE   AFFINITY 

chief  had  to  tell  him  to  shut  up.  Your  mother  was  nearly  in  a 
faint  in  the  chair,  Herman  was  pale  with  passion. 

"The  chief  told  the  officer  to  take  Hart  down  stairs.  'I'll 
keep  him  for  a  couple  of  days,  anyway,'  he  said.  After  they 
had  taken  Hart  away,  he  said,  addressing  Herman : 

"  T  think  I  have  a  dew,  it  may  take  a  day  or  two  to  work  it 
out ;  I'll  notify  you  as  soon  as  I  have  hunted  up  a  certain  trail.' 
So  we  left. 

"I  sent  O'Rourke  out  scouting  after  you,  told  him  to  call  on 
the  chief  of  police,  find  out  what  he  could,  and  offer  his  serv- 
ices to  the  police  department.  He  came  in  on  the  third  day 
after  we  had  been  to  the  chief's  office  and  told  me  they  had 
located  you ;  that  you'd  'flown  the  coop' — that's  the  way  he  put 
it;  that  McCarthy  had  found  out  all  about  it,  that  you  had 
gone  away  one  night  on  the  eleven-forty-five  over  the  Pennsyl- 
vania in  the  company  of  a  man,  with  whom  you  oc- 
cupied a  drawing  room ;  one  of  the  porters  who  had  identified 
your  picture  said  that  he  noticed  that  when  you  tried  to  step 
on  the  little  stool,  which  he  placed  for  the  convenience  of  pas- 
sengers getting  on  and  off  the  car,  you  stumbled  so  that  he  got 
a  good  look ;  he  noticed  that  you  had  no  baggage  of  any  kind. 

"The  night  porter  on  the  Pullman  also  recognized  your 
picture,  as  did  the  man  who  served  your  breakfast  the  next 
morning  in  your  room.  O'Rourke  told  me  that  the  chief  had 
notified  your  people  to  come  in.  I  hoped  your  mother  wouldn't 
go,  but  she  did,  as  did  Herman  and  Mrs.  Long. 

"When  the  chief  told  them  the  facts,  your  mother  fainted. 
They  had  an  awful  time  with  her.  Herman  cursed,  and  hoped 
you  never  would  come  back. 

"'  'She's  likely  on  the  Atlantic  by  this  time,'  remarked  the  chief. 

"  *I  hope  she'll  be  drowned,'  roared  your  uncle,  'she's  worse 
than  the  fellow  she  went  away  with,  whoever  he  is.' 

"I  met  Herman  a  few  days  later,  and  asked  him  if  they  had 
heard  anything. 

"'No,  and  we  don't  want  to  hear  anything;  she's  dead  to 
us.'  I  asked  him  how  your  mother  was ;  he  told  me  they  had 
brought  her  home  and  that  she  was  sick  in  bed." 

Florence  bowed  her  head  down,  her  hands  on  her  temples. 


THE   AFFINITY  395 

"Mary,  give  me  a  glass  of  water.  I  feel  as  if  I  would  choke." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  Florence?" 

"I  don't  know  :  what  can  I  do?" 

"Well,  in  my  opinion,  you  have  no  chance  of  having  a  rec- 
onciliation for  some  time ;  even  Mrs.  Long  has  turned  against 
you.  She  wept  along  with  your  mother,  to  whom  she  seems 
to  be  very  much  attached." 

"I  must  go,"  said  Florence,  rising. 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"I  don't  care." 

"Well,  don't  do  anything  rash.  Come  and  see  me  in  a  few 
days.     I'll  try  and  find  out  what  I  can  for  you." 

A  week  afterward  Florence  lay  in  wait  for  Miss  Vann,  who, 
as  soon  as  she  saw  Florence,  held  up  both  her  hands. 

"Well.  Mary,  what  did  you  find  out?" 

"I  saw  Herman  the  night  before  last.  I  knew  where  he 
worked.  I  made  believe  I  had  just  met  him  by  accident.  He 
was  very  nice  to  me,  we  stood  talking.  I  said,  'Herman,  did 
you  ever  hear  anything  about  Florence  yet?'  I  didn't  let  on 
I'd  seen  you,  so  don't  give  me  away.  He  immediately  flared 
up.  'Miss  Vann,  I  like  you  probably  a  great  deal  more  than 
you  think,  and  I  hope  we'll  remain  friends,  if  no  more ;  but 
you  must  never  mention  that  party  to  me,  or  inquire  about  her 
in  my  presence.'  He  cowed  me,  he's  the  first  man  in  my  life 
I  was  ever  afraid  of.  I  looked  as  entreatingly  as  I  could  at 
him,  but  could  see  by  his  eye,  and  his  firmly  'set  jaw,  it  was 
dangerous  to  talk  further  on  that  subject.  I  asked  him  how 
the  family  was?    'All  sick,'  he  said. 

"  'That's  too  bad.    How  is  your  sister?' 

"  'Very  sick.' 

"  'Well.  I'm  very  sorry,  Mr.  Wosta,  for  your  trouble.' 

"  'I  know  you  are,  Miss  \^ann  ;  my  people  think  a  great  deal 
of  you.' 

"You  know.  Florence,  I  was  very  glad  to  hear  him  say  that, 
and  if  I  was  a  better  woman  than  I  am,  I  believe  I  would  try 
to  make  Herman's  acquaintance.    He  is  a*good  deal  of  a  man." 

"You  don't  think,  then,  there's  any  hope  of  a  reconciliation 
at  present?" 


396  THE   AFFINITY 

"Why,  girl,  I  think  that  if  you  went  to  the  house  and  they 
saw  you  coming,  they  wouM  slam  the  door  in  your  face.  If 
your  mother  was  well  there  would  be  some  hope  of  her  forgiv- 
ing vou,  but  Herman,  never.  Before  I  left  him  that  day,  I 
asked  him  to  come  'into  the  store,  when  he  was  passing,  and 
let  me  know  how  the  family  was  getting  along.  He  said  he 
would." 

Florence  still  stayed  at  the  hotel,  her  "brother,"  Mr.  Great, 
visiting  her  frequently.  She  often  met  Mary  Vann — she  was 
the  only  person  she  cared  to  meet.  As  Christmas  came  on, 
Mary  told  her  that  Herman  called  one  evening,  and  they  went 
to  supper  together ;  that  he  wasn't  working,  as  the  mill  was 
closed  down ;  that  his  sister  was  very  sick  and  that  his  father 
was  laid  up  with  rheumatism. 

"  'That's  pretty  tough,  Herman,'  I  said  to  him.  I  inquired 
if  they  owned  the  house  they  lived  in.  He  told  me  no;  they  just 
rented.  I  guess  they  are  having  pretty  hard  times.  Before  we 
parted  I  threw  a  very  broad  hint  to  him.  I  said,  'Herman,  I 
would  like  to  do  something  for  your  sister,  if  I  give  you  a  lit- 
tle money,  would  you  give  it  to  her?' 

"He  smiled  and  said,  'No.  Miss  Vann,  we'll  get  on  all  right. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Long  see  that  she  wants  for  nothing.'  I  pressed 
him,  but  he  wouldn't  take  a  cent.  I'm  sure,  however,  they  are 
having  it  hard." 

Florence  resolved  to  write ;  she  would  ask  her  mother's 
pardon  and  enclose  a  check  for  fifty  dollars,  which  she  did. 
Two  days  later  the  letter  was  returned  with  check  enclosed,  but 
not  a  line  of  acknowledgment. 

On  return  of  the  check  she  sought  Mary  to  tell  her  what 
she  had  done,  and  the  result. 

"I'll  see  Herman  in  a  day  or  two,  perhaps  he'll  tell  me  about 
it.  It's  clear  now  they  know  vou  are  in  the  city,  so  I'll  have 
to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it ;  likely  Herman  will  be  somewhat 
angry  with  me.  but  I  think  I  can  handle  him." 

Herman  Wosta  c^iie  into  the  store  the  very  day  after  the 
letter  had  been  returned  to  Florence;  Miss  Vann  could  see  by 
his  manner  he  had  news. 

"Good  day,  Herman,  how  are  the  people  at  home?" 


THE   AFFINITY  397 

"My  sister  is  very  low.  What  do  you  think  ?  We  have  heard 
from  Florence." 

"Is  that  so?    Where  is  she?" 

"Here  in  Chicago.  She  is  staying  at  a  hotel  on  the  north 
side." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"She  sent  a  letter  with  a  check  for  fifty  dollars  in  it." 

"Well,  that  was  kind  of  her,  it  shows  she  hasn't  forgotten 
you." 

"Herman  reddened  up,"  said  Mary,  to  Florence,  when  telling  , 
her  of  the  interview.     "I  assumed  an  air  of  perfect  innocence 
as  I  looked  up  into  his  face." 

"We  promptly  returned  it,"  he  said,  emphatically,  "I  never 
saw  my  father  so  mad,  he  told  me  to  return  it  without  a 
moment's  delay.  He  said,  'The  hussy !  does  she  think  that 
we're  going  to  live  on  the  price  of  her  infamy?  We'd  starve 
first.'  " 

"Herman,  don't  you  think  you're  a  little  too  bitter?"  Mary 
said  to  him 

"Bitter !  bitter !  you  say,  against  the  girl  that's  broke  her 
mother's,  my  sister's,  heart?" 

"Maybe  there's  some  extenuating  circumstances,  something 
we  don't  know ;  that  she's  been  unfortunate." 

"You've  seen  her?" 

"Yes,  I  have." 

"And  you  never  told  me." 

"You  forbid  me  to  ever  mention  her  name,  and  what  could 
T  do?  You  know  I  always  liked  Florence,  and  though  we 
mingled  some  together  in  company,  I  always  warned  her.  She 
was  an  innocent  girl  when  she  first  met  that  ruffian  Hart,  and 
her  poor  mother's  heart  must  still  be  yearning  for  her." 

"Her  mother  never  mentions  her  name." 

"Perhaps  she  is  too  sick,  or  she's  afraid  to,  you're  all  so  bit- 
ter against  her.  Come,  now.  be  a  little  more  reasonable ;  she's 
not  the  only  one."  ■ 

"Well,  there's  no  use  of  talking  now,  her  mother's  not  in,  a 
fit  condition  to  see  her;  if  she  gets  better,  she  can  do  as  she 
likes ;  but  Florence  will  never,  never  find  shelter  under  the 


398  THE   AFFINITY 

same  roof  with  me,  so  there's  no  use  of  talking.    I  just  stepped 
in  to  let  vou  know  she'd  returned." 


It  was  in  the  middle  of  January,  Florence  was  reading  the 
evening  paper.  She  happened  to  look  over  the  death  notices — 
she  saw  an  item  that  paralyzed  her.  She  swooned  before  she 
could  finish  the  paragraph,  and  was  only  aroused  when  Great 
entered.     It  read: 

"Mrs.  Mary  Burdett,  the  beloved  daughter  of  Herman  and 
Katherine  Wosta,  widow  of  the  late  Henry  Burdett;  sister  of 
Herman,  Wilhelm  and  Fraulein  Wosta.  May  she  rest  in 
peace." 

Great  was  alarmed ;  his  mistress  never  shed  a  tear,  she  only 
gazed  into  space.  Her  cup  of  bitterness  was  filled  to  over- 
flowing. 

Three  days  later  a  funeral '  cortege  could  be  seen  wend- 
ing its  way  through  the  cemetery.  Following  the  cofifin,  was 
an  aged  couple ;  the  man  walked  with  head  bowed  down,  the 
woman,  old  and  feeble,  could  hardly  totter  along  beside  him. 
A  stalwart  man,  his  teeth  firmly  set,  followed,  and  close  to  him 
were  two  other  young  people,  a  man  and  a  girl ;  they  were 
both  sobbing  bitterly.  There  were  some  four  other  couples 
solemnly  walking  behind,  and  then  a  number  following  promis- 
cuously. They  reached  the  grave,  into  which  the  coffin  was 
promptlv  lowered.  The  grief  of  the  women  was  most  pro- 
nounced, as  the  grave  digger  filled  in  the  grave ;  this  having 
been  done,  the  stalwart  man  took  the  old  woman's  arm  and 
half  bore  her  away  to  the  exit  of  the  graveyard,  the  old  man 
being  assisted  by  a  friendly  arm.  As  soon  as  they  had  de- 
parted, a  figure  that  had  been  hiding  behind  one  of  the  tomb- 
stones rushed  forward,  and  throwing  herself  on  the  newly  filled 
grave,  cried, ''Mother  !    Mother!    O,  my  poor  mother  !" 

She  lay  there  long  on  the  cold,  damp  earth.  In  her  intense 
grief  she  felt  not  the  chill  January  blast. 


A   MONTANA   ELECTION  399 

Chapter  XL 

A   MONTANA  ELECTION. 

It  was  over  seven  years  since  Mike  Scully  left  Chicago, 
with  a  troubled  mind, — had  no  knowledge  what  would  be 
his  fortune.  He  could  well  remember  the  gloomy  day  in 
Denver  while  seeking  employment,  and  his  more  than  for- 
tunate meeting  with  Mr.  Monroe.  He  hadn't  entirely  for- 
gotten his  old  friends,  he  hoped  they  were  well,  and 
above  all,  that  they  had  changed  their  course  of  life.  He 
began  to  have  a  longing  to  visit  some  day  the  scenes  of 
his  early  youth,  just  to  look  on,  an  unknown  traveler.  But 
that  was  difficult,  it  might  revive  painful  memories  of  his 
early  career — people  might  begin  to  talk  of  Mike  Scully, 
leader  in  many  escapades  far  from  creditable,  now  the 
wealthy  Montana  rancher,  so  he  gave  up  the  thought.  He 
was  a  changed  man  physically,  mentally,  and  morally ;  he 
had  broadened  out  in  brain  and  brawn. 

Weighing  over  two  hundred  pounds  and  wearing  a  full 
beard,  it  is  doubtful  if  any  of  his  old  time  friends  could  rec- 
ognize him ;  even  his  voice  had  changed,  his  chest  expanded, 
his  vigorous  lungs  gave  a  deeper  tone,  coupled  with  some 
of  the  provincialisms  of  Montana,  contracted  by  his  asso- 
ciation with  people  on  the  range. 

He  still  rode  Hercules,  his  wife  rode  Juno,  though  a 
matron  having  now  three  children ;  the  last  to  arrive,  a 
little  girl  that  she  herself  decided  should  be  called  Anas- 
tasia,  after  Mike's  mother.  She  loved  to  ride  out  with  her 
husband  when  time  would  permit.  She  was  his  companion 
as  well  as  his  wife,  so  different  from  some  of  our  aristocratic 
proclivities.  Monroe,  now  a  prosperous  township,  gave 
him  little  trouble ;  his  father-in-law  giving  it  every  atten- 
tion. Stores  were  opened  on  Main  street  and  Monroe  av- 
enue. The  principal  store,  which  sold  agricultural  imple- 
ments and  machinery,  was  under  Mike's  special  super- 
vision, but  being  a  Jefifersonian  Democrat,  he  was  a  free 
trader ;  all  legitimate  business  was  open  to  those  capable 


400  A   MONTANA   ELECTION 

of  embarking  in  them.  Saloons,  gambling  houses,  and 
places  of  immoral  character  were  tabooed  ;  they  were  not 
legitimate,  in  Scully's  estimation — probably  his  antipathy 
to  Hooligan  had  prejudiced  him  against  the  first  mentioned, 
and  the  knowledge  that  whiskey  had  been  the  curse  of  his 
race  and  England's  most  powerful  ally  in  keeping  his  coun- 
trymen under  subjugation.  He  had  no  such  antipathy  to 
beer  nor  was  he  going  to  quarrel  with  those  who  used 
liquor,  if  he  did  he  would  have  to  fall  out  with  nearly  all 
his  staunchest  friends ;  it  was  by  example  alone  he  hoped 
to  bring  about  a  change  for  the  better. 

The  growth  of  the  township  necessitated  throwing  more 
of  the  Monroe  estate  open  to  settlers.  The  increasing  popu- 
lation induced  others  to  come ;  men  in  the  same  line  of 
business  as  Jack  Murry  wished  to  purchase  sites  in  the 
township,  but  to  all  such  Mike  turned  a  deaf  ear.  This 
created  some  friction,  Mike  was  denounced  as  a  temperance 
crank :  who  was  preventing  the  development  of  that  part  of 
the  country. 

Jack  Murry,  in  talking  to  a  number  of  kindred  spirits, 
said,  on  one  occasion,  "If  Mike  Scully  had  his  own  way 
the  whole  country  would  be  prohibition,  and  that  men  like 
myself  who  have  sunk  all  they  have  in  business  would 
have  their  property  confiscated.  I  located  here  when  there 
was  little  but  open  prairie  long  before  Mike  Scully  had 
shown  up,  and  have  property  rights  that  must  be  re- 
spected." This  argument  was  partly  true,  because  long  be- 
fore Scully's  advent  Murry  had  arrived  on  the  scene  with 
a  few  dollars,  a  keg  of  whiskey,  and  a  half-dozen  packs  of 
cards,  and  had  increased  the  population  by  importing  a 
number  of  girls  from  the  slums  of  Chicago  and  other  cities. 

Mike  heard  of  the  criticism  of  himself  and  his  ways,  but 
it  only  caused  him  to  laugh,  none  of  the  rowdies  ever  ven- 
tured to  tell  him  these  things  to  his  face,  the  Bingo  affair 
had  never  been  forgotten. 

Father  Chadwick  had  complained  to  Mike  about  some 
of  the  goings  on  at  Murry's  and  other  places. 

"How  can  we  prevent  it?    They're  outside  our  jurisdic- 


A    MONTANA   ELECTION  401 

tion,  and  if  your  reverence  can't  do  anything  with  them, 
how  can  I  ?  All  I  can  do  is  to  keep  them  outside  of  a  cer- 
tain territory." 

As  fall  election  came  on  it  became  apparent  there  were 
two  elements  in  the  community.  It  was  not  a  temperance 
issue,  though  Murry  and  his  friends  wanted  to  give  it  that 
complexion ;  it  was  law  and  order  against  licentiousness. 
Some  of  the  farmers'  sons  paid  too  many  visits  to  the  sport- 
ing houses  and  dance  halls.  The  newly  arrived  proprietors 
of  some  of  the  slums  had  not  even  the  discretion  of  Murry, 
who  was  the  democratic  Boss,  and  as  the  county  was 
strongly  Democratic  and  he  had  plenty  of  money  to  spend 
he  seemed  invincible.  Whatever  he  said  went,  he  repre- 
sented an  organized  force  with  special  interests  to  serve. 

The  opposition  had  little  more  than  sentiment,  though 
moet  of  the  substantial  citizens  were  against  "Murry  and 
his  gang,"  as  they  called  them.  Murry  had  the  workers 
and  the  prestige  of  the  word  "Regularity." 

The  Fall  convention  was  held,  Murry's  people  nominated 
the  old  sherifif  and  county  attorney,  "Two  liberal  men,"  as 
the  chairman  put  it,  and  staunch  Democrats. 

The  dissenters  ("Kickers,"  Murry  called  them)  got  to- 
gether and  resolved  to  put  up  an  opposition  ticket.  There 
was  some  differences  of  opinion  as  to  what  to  name  it.  "The 
Ranchers"  was  suggested,  but  as  there  were  now  a  con- 
siderable number  of  farmers  in  the  district  that  was  drop- 
ped, and  "Citizens  Ticket"  decided  upon.  The  next  thing 
was  to  find  candidates — no  easy  matter,  as  the  party  long 
in  power  seemed  invulnerable.  Many  thought  of  Mike 
Scully  as  a  candidate  for  sherifif,  but  as  he  had  taken  no  part 
in  the  deliberations  they  didn't  know  whether  he  would  ac- 
cept or  not,  Monroe  thought  he  wouldn't.  A  committee 
on  candidates  was  appointed  composed  of  Stringer,  Randal, 
Rolofif,  Rooriey  and  Bronson,  who  had  never  forgiven 
Murry,  and  were  only  too  eager  to  oppose  him,  or  anything 
he  stood  for.  The  evening  they  waited  on  Scully  they 
found  him  stretched  his  full  length  on  the  sofa  in  the  parlor 
with  little  Mike  sitting  on  his  breast  and  Johnny  trying 


402  A   MONTANA   ELECTION 

to  pull  him  off,  Mrs.  Scully  sitting  with  her  little  girl  baby 
in  her  arms  laughing  at  the  antics  of  Mike  and  the  children. 
Monroe  was  encouraging  Johnny,  now  upward  of  three 
years  old,  in  his  efforts  to  displace  little  Mike. 

As  soon  as  the  delegation  entered  Mike  sat  up  and  held 
the  youngest  child  on  his  knee,  while  he  restrained  Johnny 
by  holding  him  at  arm's  length. 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen."  said  Monroe,  greeting  them. 
"Come  in,  and  sit  down ;  help  yourselves  to  cigars,  there's 
a  box  there." 

The  delegation  saluted  Mrs.  Scully,  who  replied  to  their 
friendly  wishes  by  inquiring  about  their  families. 

"We've  come  to  see  you,  Scully,  about  important  busi- 
ness," said  Stringer,  who  was  chairman  of  the  delegation. 

"Then  perhaps  I  had  better  retire,"  said  Mrs.  Scully. 

"No,  No,"  remarked  Randal,  smiling,  "perhaps  we'll  want 
your  influence." 

"Well,  what  is  it,  gentlemen?"  said  Mike. 

"We  want  to  see  if  you'll  run  for  sheriff,"  replied 
Stringer.     "We're  not  satisfied  with  the  nominations." 

Mike  laughed.  "You  know  I'm  not  in  politics,  besides 
I'm  a  good  Democrat  and  couldn't  oppose  the  regular 
ticket,"  smiling. 

"Regular  nothing!"  cried  Randal.  "You  wouldn't  call 
that  pack  of  vagabonds  Democrats,  would  you?" 

Bronson  was  fierce  in  his  denunciation  of  Murry  and  the 
"push." 

Mike  looked  over  at  his  wife,  who,  he  saw,  was  inter- 
ested in  the  discussion.     "What  say  you,  wife?" 

"If  I  thought  we  could  beat  them  I  would  like  you  to 
run." 

"Beat  them !"  cried  Rooney.  "We  won't  leave  a  grease 
spot  of  them." 

"Well.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  You  look  for  another 
candidate  and  if  you  can't  find  one  to  suit,  I'll  run." 

The  committee  left  in  high  glee  determined  not  to  look 
further.     The  campaign  was  fast  and  furious,  the  regulars 


A   MONTANA   ELECTION  403 

confident  of  the  prestige  the  name  "regular  Democrats" 
gave  them  thought  the  opposition  a  joke. 

Murry  was  painfully  shocked  when  he  heard  that  Mrs. 
Scully,  Mrs.  Bronson,  and  Mrs.  Randal  were  riding  through 
the  county  soliciting  votes  for  the  Citizen  ticket. 

"It's  a  shame,"  he  said,  "that  there's  no  law  to  stop 
them.  Women  shouldn't  be  allowed  to  take  any  part  in 
elections." 

Mike  immediately  set  about  the  organizing  of  a  commit- 
tee and  appealed  to  his  friends- and  neighbors  to  support 
him. 

The  regulars  held  meetings  and  kept  open  house,  free 
whiskey  galore.  Jerry  Smith  attended  one  of  their  meet- 
ings.    Mike  asked  what  they  did  there. 

"Why,  Murry  was  chairman.  The  candidate  for  sherifif 
said  he  believed  in  a  liberal  administration,  live  and  let 
live,  w^as  his  motto;  that  he  believed  in  treating  everybody 
right ;  that  he  had  faithfully  served  the  people ;  and  would 
continue  to  do  in  the  future,  as  he  had  done  in  the  past." 

"That  must  have  sounded  very  nice,"  said  Mike. 

"Yes,  it  seemed  to  take  with  the  crowd,  and  then  their 
candidate  for  county  attorney  spoke ;  he  did  little  but  refer 
to  Jefiferson  and  Jackson,  and  said  his  friend,  the  candi- 
date for  sheriff,  reminded  him  very,  much  of  them." 

"My  God!     Did  he  say  that?"  inquired  Mike. 

"Yes,  and  a  lot  more  in  the  same  strain.  Then  they  ad- 
journed to  Murry's  and  had  a  h of  a  time." 

On  the  eve  of  the  election  some  of  Scully's  friends  tried 
to  prevail  upon  him  not  to  go  near  the  polling  place. 

"Why  not?"  he  inquired. 

"Weil,  lots  of  their  fellows  w^ill  be  full  of  booze  and 
they'll  be  ugly." 

"Let  them,  we  want  no  trouble,  and  I  don't  want  any  of 
our  people  to  give  them  any  excuse.  I  want  you  to  act  as 
challenger,  Jerry,  you  know  most  of  them." 

"I  suppose  Murry  will  have  his  bouncer,"  said  Shanks. 
"He's  a  pretty  tough  man." 

The  polling  place  in  which  Scully  had  to  vote  was  lo- 


404  A    MONTANA   ELECTION 

cated  in  the  back  of  Murry's  saloon.  It  was  expected  that 
there  would  be  a  tough  time  there — feeling  ran  so  high — 
Scully  had  been  denounced  as  a  traitor  to  the  party  and 
as  tr3nng  to  break  up  the  organization. 

The  candidate  for  state's  attorney  on  the  regular  ticket 
had  hurled  his  shafts  at  him — even  going  so  far  as  to  de- 
nounce him  as  a  reformer. 

As  the  election  proceeded  challenges  were  frequent,  Mur- 
ry's man  challenging  many  of  the  oldest  and  best  citizens. 
Mike  Scully  on  one  occasion  remonstrated  with  him. 

"You  can't  blufif  me,"  said  the  fellow  addressing  Scully. 

"I  am  not  trying  to  blufif  you,  but  I  want  you  to  be  half 
fair."    He  said  this  in  a  very  meek  tone. 

As  the  morning  advanced  Murry's  crowd  under  the  in- 
fluence of  liquor,  became  very  aggressive.  Mike  had  re- 
peatedly to  assume  the  roll  of  peacemaker,  but  at  length 
he  began  to  get  riled.  The  bouncer  began  to  blufif  Jerry 
Smith,  who,  though  game  to  a  finish,  had  no  chance  with 
Murry's  man  if  it  came  to  a  scrap.  It  was  about  eleven 
o'clock  when  a  well  known  citizen,  who  lived  at  the  extreme 
end  of  the  voting  district  and  had  taken  little  part  in  poli- 
tics, made  application  to  vote.  The  regular  challenger 
wouldn't  let  him.  There  was  a  fierce  altercation,  a  number 
taking  sides. 

Mike  rushed  in  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  He  appealed 
to  the  bouncer  in  vain. 

"Why,  every  one  knows  Mr.  Strang,  he's  lived  in  this 
county  for  years." 

"Well,  he  won't  vote  here." 

"Yes,  he  will !"  shouted  Mike,  getting  close  to  the 
bouncer,  who  gave  him  a  violent  shove  which  staggered 
him  for  a  moment. 

"Put  your  hands  up,"  roared  Mike. 

The  bouncer  only  too  eager  for  such  an  invitation  made 
a  lunge  at  Scully,  who  stepped  out  of  reach  and,  turning, 
struck  the  bouncer  flush  on  his  jaw,  putting  him  out  of 
business.  Immediately  there  was  a  flourishing,  of  guns. 
Jack  Murry,  seeing  the  danger,  ran  forward  between  the 


A    MONTANA   ELECTION  405 

belHgerants  who  were  menacing  one  another,  just  at  the 
moment  Mrs.  Scully,  mounted  on  Juno,  rode  in  amongst 
the  crowd.  There  was  a  wild  cheer  for  her  and  the  fracas 
was  over.  Murry  appointed  another  challenger.  The  polls 
closed  without  further  serious  contention,  the  county  being 
sparsely  settled,  the  voting  places  were  wide  apart. 

Father  Chadwick  had  arrived  early  in  the  evening  at 
Monroe's  and  was  anxiously  awaiting  the  returns.  Bron- 
son  was  the  first  to  report,  he  came  galloping  over  the 
range  waving  a  paper  in  his  hand — the  vote  in  the  mining 
district  where  Bronson  was  a  factor  had  been  over  three 
to  one  in  favor  of  Scully  and  his  colleagues.  The  crowd 
that  had  began  to  gather  in  the  house  and  over  the  lawn 
set  up  a  cheer  as  the  returns  were  read  from  the  veranda. 
Randal  arrived  next,  the  returns  from  his  district  were 
close  but  deemed  very  favorable.  There  was  considerable 
anxiety  to  hear  from  the  county  seat.  This  was  the  pre- 
cinct in  which  the  sherifif  lived.  When  the  returns  arrived 
and  it  was  found  that  Scully  had  carried  it,  the  cheering 
and  shouting  lasted  for  some  minutes.  There  were  call? 
for  Mrs.  Scully  until  she  had  to  respond-  by  coming  to  the 
veranda  and  bow  her  acknowledgments. 

Scully  remained  at  the  gulch  where  a  large  vote  was 
cast  and  where  the  county  committeeman  expected  good  re- 
turns. Tn  this  he  was  mistaken — Mike  carried  it  by  a  large 
margin. 

Stringer's  district  showed  up  well ;  he  brought  the  returns 
himself,  accompanied  by  RolofT  and  a  number  of  friends. 

The  election  had  been  virtually  decided  before  Mike  ar- 
rived, followed  by  an  excited  crowd,  shouting  and  yelling 
at  the  top  of  their  voices.  When  the  crowd  gathered  on 
the  lawn  and  on  the  veranda  saw  him  coming  they  cheered, 
his  wife  met  him  the  moment  he  reached  the  top  step  of 
th  veranda  and  kissed  him.  This  led  to  an  increased  yell 
of  delight.  "A  speech,"  "A  speech,"  was  shouted  from  all 
sides.  Monroe  stood  beside  his  son-in-law,  the  old  man 
elated  beyond  description.  Father  Chadwick -came  forward 
and  held  up  his  hand  for  order.    The  influence  of  the  priest 


406  A    MONTANA    ELECTION 

was  manifest  in  a  moment.  Mike  came  forward  with  his 
youngest  son  in  his  arms,  while  Johnny  was  holding  him 
by  his  leg. 

When  quiet  was  obtained  Scully  began — 

"Friends  and  neighbors,  I  wish  to  thank  you  one  and  all 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  for  the  more  than  generous 
support  you  have  given  me  during  this  campaign.  I  sin- 
cerely hope  that  I  may  be  able  during  my  term  of  office 
to  prove  to  you  I  have  been  worthy  of  your  confidence, 
and  while  there  has  been  some  little  rancour  thrown  into 
the  campaign,  now  that  it's  all  over  let  us  remember  that 
we're  all  friends  and  neighbors,  and  try  to  live  in  harmony 
with  one  another.  You  cannot  be  unmindful  of  the  fact 
that  in  assuming  the  important  office  to  which  you  have 
elected  me,  I  am  the  representative  of  those  who  voted 
against  me  as  well  as  of  those  who  voted  for  me,  so  I  make 
a  pledge  to  all,  to  fill  the  office  fairly  and  impartially  to 
the  best  of  my  ability.  We  all  cannot  think  alike  and  there- 
fore must  tolerate  those  who  may  dififer  from  us,  and  if 
it's  a  conscientious  difference  of  opinion  where  no  unlawful 
or  immoral  question  is  at  issue,  we  must  bear  with  one 
another." 

"Bravo!   bravo!"   shouted   Chadwick. 

"Firm  in  essentials;  liberal  in  nonessentials.  I  think 
that's  the  way  his  reverence  would  put  it,"  looking  at  Chad- 
wick, who  nodded  his  approval.  "We  have  had  a  heavy 
day,  and  I'm  sure  some  of  you  who  have  far  to  go  are 
anxious  to  get  home ;  so  again  thanking  you,  not  only  on 
behalf  of  myself  but  on  behalf  of  my  father  here,"  laying 
his  hand  on  Monroe's  shoulder,  "and  on  that  of  my  wife 
and  children,  T  will  conclude." 

Father  Chadwick,  taking  his  hat  in  hand  led  the  cheer- 
ing for  the  newly  elected  sherifif  of County. 

Mike  Scully's  position  as  sherifif  gave  him  little  trouble. 
His  friends  had  every  confidence  in  his  judgment  and.  dis- 
cretion, his  enemies  a  full  appreciation  of  his  prowess  as 
a  fighter.  There  was  no  questioning  his  grit,  the  election 
had  established  the  fact  that  he  was  somewhat  of  an  organ- 


A    MONTANA    ELECTION  407 

izer,  so  Murry  and  his  party  had  nothing  to  do  but  wait 
eventualities,  which  soon  came. 

When  it  came  to  the  appointment  of  ten  deputy  sheriffs 
in  place  of  the  ten  who  wore  stars  and  served  in  different 
capacities  in  the  joints,  dance  halls  and  saloons  in  the 
county,  Mike  found  that  the  salaries  of  those  men  had  been 
paid  by  the  boss  who  ran  the  place,  the  sheriff  pocketing 
the  amount  allowed  by  the  county. 

"I  see  they  know  how  to  do  a  little  grafting  here,  as 
well  as  they  do  in  Chicago,"  said  Mike,  to  his  informant. 

"That's  not  all,"  replied  the  man  to  whom  he  was  talk- 
ing; "every  gambling  house  and  dance  hall  gives  up  so 
much." 

"Well,  you  tell  Murry  and  the  other  fellows  in  the  same 
line  of  business  that  they  are  relieved  from  any  further  con- 
tributions of  that  character,  but  that  I  will  expect  them  to 
run  their  places  as  orderly  as  they  can,  considering  the 
line  they  are  in  ;  and  if  they  don't,  I'll  shut  them  up." 

Mrs.  Scully  was  the  first  to  kick  against  Mike's  admin- 
istration. She  was  mildly  supported  by  Father  Chadwick. 
She  wanted  the  resorts  closed  at  once.  Mr.  Monroe  sided 
with  his  son-in-law. 

"A  split  in  the  party  already,"  said  Mike,  laughing,  as 
they  were  discussing  the  proposition  -shortly  after  his  elec- 
tion. 

"Never  mind  them,  Mike;  they're  a  great  deal  too  radi- 
cal," said  Monroe.  "Wait  until  they  give  us  any  trouble, 
then  we'll  act." 

Murry  lost  no  time  trying  to  get  into  the  good  graces 
of  the  new  county  officials,  with  poor  success.  He  felt  the 
county  was  going  to  the  dogs. 


408  the  high  school 

Chapter  XLI 

THE   high   school. 

"Birds  of  a  feather  flock  together,"  is  an  old  proverb 
and  a  true  one. 

Henry  Mort,  John  Bert  and  Joe  Phipps  were  gentlemen 
in  their  profession,  they  were  cracksmen — there  was  noth- 
ing petty  about  them,  in  company  they  would  be  taken  for 
clerks. 

Hart  and  Rock  were  a  lower  type  of  criminals ;  they 
would  hold  up  a  drunken  man  or  pick  a  pocket — as  our 
readers  are  aware  the  street  cars  were  their  most  active 
field  of  operation.  They  had  lower  instincts  than  the  three 
first  named,  neither  of  them  had  any  religious  scruples, 
so  had  no  regard  for  the  moral  law ;  they  were  "chippy 
chasers."  The  Saturday  night  dances  and  the  wine  rooms, 
in  the  days  of  which  we  write,  furnished  ample  hunting 
grounds  in  the  pursuit  of  chicken,  as  Hart  designated  their 
unfortunate  victims. 

A  liberal  administration,  fully  aware  of  the  iniquities  of 
those  two  institutions,  either  winked  at  or  pandered  to 
them. 

The  apostles  of  personal  liberty  were  behind  them,  the 
reformer  that  condemned  them  was  denounced  as  a  crank. 
"You  can't  run  a  city  like  Chicago  as  you  would  a  country 
village,"  they  would  say,  and  so  the  thing  went  on,  in  spite 
of  the  flood  of  tears  shed  by  hundreds  of  mothers,  who  saw 
their  daughters  going  to  perdition. 

Even  today,  though  in  a  less  degree,  the  same  practices 
are  pursued.  It  is  illegal  for  the  saloon-keeper  to  have  wine 
rooms,  so  he  has  substituted  palm  gardens  and  installed 
screens  to  shelter  his  female  customers  from  the  gaze  of 
the  too-prying  eyes  of  the  more  curious  customers  that 
may  happen  to  drop  into  any  of  his  back  rooms ;  worse 
still,  a  liberal  administration  permits  an  annual  round-up 
of  everything  that  is  vile  and  vicious,  for  fear  of  ofifending 
some  influential  statesman  whose  power  in  the  body  politic 


THE   HIGH    SCHOOL  409 

has  been  gained,  and  is  maintained  by  their  championship 
of  scarlet  women  and  worse  men. 

The  one  great  power  that  should  raise  its  voice  in  sten- 
torian tones  against  this  great  wrong,  remains  silent,  or  but 
whispers  its  condemnation.  There  is  no  Richlieu  to 
threaten  the  thunders  of  the  church  against  all  who  aid  or 
abet  in  the  propogation  of  those  high  schools  of  vice — but 
enough. 

Hart  soon  filled  the  void  in  his  wounded  feelings  caused 
by  the  escape  of  Florence  by  finding  another  victim.  His 
was  but  a  carnal  desire — a  conquest  to  glory  in — a  captive 
he  might  display;  just  as  the  Romans,  Egyptians  or  Per- 
sians displayed  their  female  captives  after  a  successful  raid 
on  a  vanquished  tribe.  He  w^ould  have  cast  Florence  ofif, 
as  Rock  did  Margy,  when  he  tired  of  her,  or  she  caused 
him  annoyance  or  inconvenience. 

Gus  Schultz  looked  upon  Hart  and  Rock  as  two  game 
fellows,  whose  exploits  he  wished  to  emulate,  so  soon 
joined  them  as  a  willing  apprentice ;  an  occupation  congen- 
ial to  his  tastes. 

Gus,  as  soon  as  Rock  and  Hart  began  to  patronize  him, 
shook  the  "kids,"  as  he  called  them,  although  he  was  but 
some  three  years  their  senior. 

Patsy  O'Brien,  having  to  work  steady  in  the  tin  factory, 
of  which  his  sister  Mamie  was  now  a  kind  of  sub-fore- 
woman, had  no  time  to  associate  with  the  gang  of  boys, 
except  a  little  in  the  evening,  and  as  he  had  to  get  up  early 
to  get  to  work  he  didn't  care  to  stay  out  too  late  at  night. 
Another  reason,  his  mother's  failing  health  alarmed  him  ; 
love  for  mother  in  the  Irish  bo}^  is  the  noblest  trait  in  his 
character  at  home  or  abroad.  Patsy  inherited  it  to  a 
marked  degree,  so  much  so  that  he  took  it  on  himself  to 
lecture  Tony  when  he  saw  his  too  great  familiarity  with 
"the  push"  and  his  staying  out  late  angered  his  mother. 

Tony,  when  sixteen  years  old,  was  still  in  the  newspaper 
business,  he  was  most  of  the  time  on  the  street,  he  could 
pay  his  board  out  of  his  earnings  and  began  to  "feel  his 
oats,"   as   they  say.     His  pals  were   Mike   Flynn,    George 


410  THE   HIGH    SCHOOL 

Turveson,  Shorty,  Pete  Dempsey  and  Rudolph  Schultz,  all 
about  his  own  age. 

Tony  was  still  somewhat  under  restraint,  his  foster 
mother  had  some  control  over  him,  and  when  too  ill  to  go 
after  him  at  night,  when  she  thought  it  was  time  for  him 
to  be  at  home,  would  send  Mamie.  Some  of  his  pals  would 
guy  her  when  she  came  to  seek  him,  but  she  would  just 
give  them  as  good  as  they  sent.  They  couldn't  go  too  far 
with  her,  for  they  knew  Patsy  wouldn't  stand  for  it,  so 
the  worst  they  would  say  was,  "Yes,  Mamie ;  take  him 
home  and  put  him  to  bed."  This  used  to  humiliate  Tony, 
and  turn  the  laugh  on  him,  but  his  liking  for  Mamie,  who 
had  been  a  little  mother  to  him,  made  him  submit. 

Hooligan's  corner  bore  an  unsavory  reputation,  com- 
plaints were  frequent.  Occasionally  the  youngsters  got 
into  trouble  for  petty  pilfering,  some  of  them  found  their 
way  into  the  bridewell  for  short  terms  when  their  loving 
parents  couldn't  pay  the  fine  or  the  frequency  of  their  de- 
linquencies was  such  that  even  the  services  of  the  good 
alderman  as  a  clearing  house  proved  futile. 

About  the  time  of  which  we  write  there  was  a  poolroom 
opened,  a  little  over  a  block  from  Hooligan's  corner.  There 
were  four  pooltables,  ample  seating  room  for  those  not  play- 
ing so  they  could  watch  the  game,  a  cigar  case  on  which 
the  boys  who  wished  to  shake  dice  could  rattle  the  bones 
for  either  cigars  or  cigarettes.  The  proprietors  occasionally 
started  a  little  crap  game  on  the  case  in  plain  view  of  the 
passers-by — and,  as  he  was  "all  right,"  had  protection. 
The  opening  of  this  establishment  was  a  great  boon  to  the 
loungers  and  was  well  frequented.  It  brought  together  the 
youngsters  for  blocks  around  and  was  the  means  of  intro- 
ducing into  the  neighborhood  boys  who  were  formerly  un- 
knoAvn  in  that  locality. 

Tony  Murphy  soon  learned  the  game  and  was  constant 
in  his  attendance,  as  was  the  rest  of  his  pals.  There  was 
no  age  limit  in  this  place,  anything  from  fourteen  up  was 
welcome.  If  they  had  a  nickel  they  could  enter  the  game, 
if  they  were  broke  they  could  look  on. 


THE   HIGH   SCHOOL  411 

This  place  proved  so  popular  that  even  the  sons  of  many 
of  the  respectable  people  of  the  neighborhood  used  to  at- 
tend and  mingle  with  the  young  thieves  that  used  to  fre- 
quent the  place. 

At  length  the  complaints  about  it  became  so  that  the 
captain  of  police  raided  it  one  evening  and  carted  off  a 
number  of  young  sports,  amongst  them  Tony  Murphy.  The 
news  spread  rapidly  amongst  the  parents  of  the  boys  who 
had  been  taken  to  the  station. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  and  Mamie,  with  a  number  of  the  parents 
and  friends  of  the  boys,  went  to  the  station  to  see  what 
they  could  do  for  their  progeny.  The  captain  of  police  was 
stubborn,  he  had  sons  of  his  own,  so  resolved  to  hold  them 
for  a  time  to  scare  them. 

"It  will  be  a  warning  to  them,"  he  said,  to  one  woman, 
who  was  particularly  persistent.  He  kept  the  whole  crowd 
of  boys  until  about  two  in  the  morning  and  then  raced 
them  home,  with  the  lecture  as  to  what  he  would  do  if  he 
caught  them  there  again. 

The  proprietor  of  the  amusement  parlors,  as  he  called 
them,  felt  he  had  been  outraged,  and  appealed  to  the  peo- 
ple's representatives  for  redress  and  justification,  which  was 
fully  granted,  and  the  captain  of  police  given  a  tip  to  let  the 
place  alone. 

The  poolroom  keeper  was  a  liberal  spender.  Hooligan 
took  quite  a  liking  to  him,  especially  when  he  heard  him 
praise  the  alderman  and  denoimce  the  reformers  as  a  lot 
of  puritanical  finks. 

"A.  P.  A.'s,"  said  Hooligan,  chiming  in. 

The  incentive  to  gambling  and  the  desire  to  be  in  the 
game  was  so  strong  that  the  youngsters  hit  upon  every  de- 
vice they  could  to  get  money.  Petty  thefts  were  frequent ; 
their  parents  began  to  miss  articles  which  had  been  sold 
to  the  junk  shop  by  the  youngsters  for  a  few  nickles  so 
as  to  enable  them  to  play.  Those  more  experienced  in 
evil  ways  suggested  plans  to  those  having  less  knowledge 
of  how  to  obtain  funds. 

Tony  Murphy  began  to  "hold  out"  on  Mrs.  O'Brien,  his 


412  THK   HIGH   SCHOOL 

excuse  being  that  business  was  bad.  Some  of  his  customers 
not  paying  regularly  for  their  papers,  was  one  of  his  ex- 
cuses which  the  simple-minded  woman  believed.  The  truth 
was  that  the  rake-off  in  the  crap  game  took  a  large  part 
of  Tony's  earnings. 

On  one  occasion  Tony  lost  all  the  money  he  had  to  pay 
for  his  papers  and  had  to  seek  his  old  friend,  Joe  the 
Hustler,  to  solicit  a  loan,  which  was  promptly  given. 

Gus  Schultz  was  the  envy  of  the  youngsters.  He  came 
occasionally  and  being  flush  of  money  used  to  enter  into 
the  game,  sometimes  putting  as  much  as  a  dollar  on  a 
throw. 

Gus  Schultz  was  not  the  only  one  who  had  money  to 
gamble  or  play  pool,  many  of  the  boys  who  frequented 
the  place  used  to  bet  freely  and  the  boys  in  the  neighbor- 
hood used  to  wonder  where  they  got  it. 

'T  suppose  dere  fader  is  well  off,"  said  Shorty,  one  night 
as  he,  Tony,  Flynn,  Turveson,  Dempsey  and  Rudolph 
Schultz  were  watching  the  game. 

"It's  an  aw^ful  thing  to  be  broke,"  remarked  Flynn,  "and 
the  picnics  going  on." 

"Sunday's  de  only  day  I  can  go  anywhere,"  remarked 
Tony,  "and  den  I  can't  go  till  de  afternoon  after  I've  de- 
livered my  papers." 

"Dat's  a  bum  job  of  yours,  Tony,"  chimed  in  Dempsey. 
"I  wouldn't  care  for  dat." 

"O,  you  don't  care  for  any  job,"  retorted  Tony. 

"Well,  I  haven't  to,  my  old  woman  can  take  care  of  me." 

"Dere,  look  at  dat  pile  that  kid  is  raking  in,"  said  Turve- 
son, referring  to  a  youngster  about  his  own  age  who  was 
having  phenomenal  luck. 

"I  wisht  I  had  luck  just  ones't  like  dat,"  lamented  Tony. 
"I  owe  Joe  quite  a  lot  and  some  of  the  other  fellows  down 
town,  and  I've  been  standing  off  Mrs.  O'Brien,  too.  Patsy 
is  kicking,  and  Mamie  asked  me  the  other  day  what  I  done 
wid  my  money." 

"Well,  T  know  where  I'm  going  to  get  some,"  said 
Schultz,  "and  if  you  fellows  like  you  can  stand  in." 


THE  HIGH   SCHOOL  413 

"Where?"  inquired  Traveson,  eagerly. 

"Come  over  in  de  corner  here  and  I'll  tell  you." 

The  group  went  over  to  the  far  end  of  the  poolroom  to 
hear  Schultz's  suggestion. 

"You  know  dat  empty  house  on  Monroe  street  near 
Peoria?"  he  said,  in  a  whisper. 

None  of  them  knew  the  particular  house  but  knew  the 
locality. 

"Well,  what  about  it?"  inquired  Turveson. 

"It's  a  big  brick  house.  I  wonder  you  fellows  don't  know 
it." 

"What  matter?"  said  Flynn.  "Tell  us  what  you're  drivin' 
at." 

"Well,"  in  a  stage  whisper,  "I  was  around  dere  de  other 
day.  I  sees  de  back  door  open  and  goes  in.  I  sees  all  de 
lead  pipe  and  de  gas  fittings  all  dere.  I  sez  to  myself  dis 
is  a  harvest;  it's  pie." 

Tony  Murphy  turned  away. 

"Where  you  going?"  inquired  Turveson,  looking  after 
him. 

"How  much  do  you  tink  we  could  get  for  dem  if  we  had 
'em,  Rudolph?"  inquired  Shorty. 

"I  tink  we  could  get  thirty  bucks." 

"And  if  we  got  caught,"  chimed  in  Dempsey,  "what 
would  we  get?" 

"No  danger,"  replied  Schultz ;  "dere's  not  a  soul  around 
dere  at  night  and  dere's  enough  of  us  to  keep  a  good  look- 
out." 

"Where  would  we  sell  them  if  we  had  them?"  asked 
Flynn. 

"At  the  sheeny's,  to  be  sure ;  he  buys  everything." 

"I'm  game,"  said  Turveson,  "if  you  fellows  are." 

Flynn  and  Dempsey  would  take  a  chance,  Tony  Murphy 
backed  out. 

"You're  not  going  to  flunk?"  said  Shorty.  "If  de  rest 
of  us  goes,  it's  a  little  easy  money." 

"Oh,  he'll  come  if  we  all  agree  to  go;  Tony  won't  back 
out,"  chimed  in  Turveson. 


414  THE  HIGH   SCHOOL 

So  it  was  decided  that  the  following  night  they  would 
go  and  help  themselves  to  the  lead  pipe  and  gas  fittings 
at  the  empty  house  on  Monroe  street. 

"We'll  want  a  sharp  knife  and  an  axe  and  a  crow  bar," 
remarked  Schultz. 

"You'd  better  get  a  wrench,  too,"  said  Turveson.  "If 
we  can  get  the  chandeliers  down  without  injuring  them, 
the  Jew  will  give  us  more  for  them." 

"They  will  be  pretty  awkward  to  carry,"  suggested 
Shorty. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  Flynn.  "We'll  bring 
them  through  the  alley  to  Schultz's  coal  shed  and  have  the 
Jew  call  for  them.    Don't  you  think  that's  the  best?" 

"A  good  idea,"  chimed  in  Shorty.  "Five  of  us  can  each 
carry  something,  and  Tony  can  go  ahead  and  look  out." 

"Tony  can  carry  something,  too,"  replied  Schultz.  "He 
can  carry  some  of  the  pipe,  anyway." 

The  raid  on  the  house  plumbing  had  been  successfully 
carried  out,  the  goods  were  securely  stowed  in  the  Schultz 
woodshed,  the  junk  man  had  been  notified  to  come  around 
and  bid  on  it.  Some  of  the  "push"  had  done  business  with 
him  before ;  he  would  treat  them  right. 

Schultz  and  Flynn  had  to  do  the  negotiating;  they  had 
instructions  to  ask  thirty  dollars  for  the  swag.  "They're 
worth  a  hundred,  easy,"  said  Turveson.  "Solid  brass,  be- 
sides the  lead — look  how  thick  it  is." 

When  the  junk  man  came  and  looked  over  the  booty, 
he  said,  "How  much  do  you  vant?" 

"Thirty  dollars,"  replied  Schultz,  putting  on  a  business 
air. 

"Vat!  thirty  dollars?  Mine  friend,  old  brass  is  cheap 
now." 

"They're  not  old  brass,"  said  Flynn.  "They're  good  chan- 
deliers and  must  be  worth  a  lot  of  money." 

"Veil,  my  friend,  we  have  to  break  those  things  up  ;  but 
as  I  know  you  boys.  I  vill  give  you  four  dollars." 

"What,"  shouted  Schultz,  "four  dollars?" 


THE   HIGH    SCHOOL  415 

"Yes,  four  dollars,  dat's  as  much  as  I  could  give ;  you 
know  I  have  to  live,"  rubbing  his  hands. 

"We'll  not  take  it,"  said  Flynn  decisively. 

"Veil,  I'll  be  liberal  vid  you,  I  vill  give  you  five,  and 
then  I  maybe  lose  on  them." 

Schultz  and  Flynn  looked  at  one  another,  their  dream 
of  being  capitalists  and  making  an  onslaught  on  the  crap 
game  had  vanished. 

"We'll  not  take  it,"  again  replied  Flynn. 

"Veil,  you  know  best,"  the  junk  dealer  went  away,  shout- 
ing, "Old  iron,  rags  and  bones,  bottles." 

That  night  the  boys  held  a  conference.  "Gus  had  "got 
on"  in  the  meantime  and  demanded  his  share.  It  was  in 
their  place  and  he  was  going  to  have  part  or  else  "dere 
would  be  trouble." 

The  junk  man  was  around  early  the  next  morning.  He 
wanted  to  let  on  he  had  no  interest  in  the  fixtures.  Gus 
Schultz,  who  had  undertaken  the  disposal  of  the  swag,  ac- 
costed him,  "Look  here,  you  Sheeny,  how  much  are  you 
going  to  give  us  for  that  stufif  we  have  in  the  shed?" 

"I  offered  you  five  dollars — that  was  a  good  price." 

"Well,  there's  seven  of  us,  and  you  don't  give  us  a  dollar 
apiece  you  needn't  come  in  this  street  any  more." 

The  peddler  gave  up  the  seven  dollars,  which  was  duly 
turned  over  that  night  to  the  fellow  who  ran  the  poolroom, 
the  boys  being  cleaned  out  at  the  crap  game  in  less  than 
half  an  hour. 

"You're  in  hard  luck,"  said  the  professor,  to  his  pupils, 
as  he  saw  them  fall  back  after  they  had  staked  their  last 
dime  and  lost. 

On  another  occasion  they  broke  into  a  cigar  store,  get- 
ting away  with  a  number  of  boxes  for  which  they  found  a 
ready  sale,  and  the  proceeds  soon  followed  the  same  chan- 
nels as  did  the  seven  dollars  which  they  had  received  for 
what  had  cost  the  owner  of  the  building  on  Monroe  street 
upward  of  two  hundred. 

Tony  Murphy's  customers  began  to  fall  ofif.  He  had 
neglected    them,    their    papers    were    not    delivered    early 


416  THE    HIGH    SCHOOL 

enough  in  the  morning,  sometimes  he  didn't  deliver  any 
at  all. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  began  to  upbraid  him.  He  was  constantly 
in  the  poolroom ;  occasionally  he  had  some  extra  money, 
where  he  got  it  no  one  knew — possibly  some  of  the  cus- 
tomers who  had  owed  him  had  settled  their  score  or  he 
had  been  lucky  in  the  poolroom.  The  truth  came  out  at 
last. 

Tony  Murphy  and  his  pals  were  found  in  a  clothing  store 
one  night  after  business  hours,  and  not  being. able  to  give 
a  satisfactory  reason  for  being  there  they  were  sent  over 
to  the  North  Side.  This  happened  to  be  when  the  good 
alderman  was  on  his  vacation.  Hooligan  did  his  best,  by 
expressing  his  sorrow — that  was  all  he  could  do  in  the  ab- 
sence of  his  friend,  the  city  father.  There  was  a  great 
crowd  over  at  the  North  Side,  so  Tony  and  his  pals  didn't 
feel  lonesome.  The  mothers  and  aunts  and  cousins  of  the 
boys  used  to  visit  them  frequently,  shed  a  few  tears,  leave 
them  a  little  change,  which  they  would  use  in  treating  the 
more  hardened  but  less  fortunate  criminals  who  happened 
to  be  taking  a  vacation  at  the  same  time  as  were  the  boys 
from  Hooligan's  corner. 

In  return  for  the  generosity  of  the  boys  the  veteran  hold- 
up men,  burglars,  and  sneak  thieves  used  to  tell  them  of 
their  many  adventures,  both  profitable  and  perilous,  of  their 
hair-breadth  escapes  and  unfortunate  captures,  the  boys 
giving  rapt  attention  to  the  many  interesting  narratives. 
It  was  a  great  educational  institution  in  those  days,  so  be- 
fore they  got  out  they  had  learned  many  things  they 
couldn't  learn  elsewhere  in  so  short  a  time.  Mamie  O'Brien 
never  left  without  slipping  Tony  a  half  dollar,  and  when 
she  couldn't  go  herself  she  sent  a  little  change  with  some 
of  the  relations  of  the  other  youngsters  who  were  going 
to  pay  a  visit.  Besides  the  money,  their  fond  parents, 
aunts  and  cousins  used  to  bring  them,  they  took  them  food, 
fruit  and  nice  cakes,  which  they  shared  with  the  veterans 
who  had  no  friends  to  furnish  such  luxuries. 

"This  is  better  than  home,"  Shorty  said,  one  day,  as  he 


A   SYNOPSIS  417 

looked  over  the  lot  of  good  things  that  had  been  brought 
them. 

"If  they  would  only  let  us  out  occasionally  I  could  stay 
here  altogether,"  remarked  Turveson,  as  he  was  putting  his 
molars  into  half  a  pie.  During  the  hours  allowed  them  for 
recreation,  if  they  were  not  listening  to  the  stories  of  the 
men  of  experience  who  were  awaiting  trial,  they  would 
be  playing  tag  or  leap-frog,  or  having  a  nice  game  of  cards. 
At  length  they  were  turned  adrift  for  want  of  prosecution. 

The  man  whose  store  they  had  broken  into  either  had 
been  fixed  or  relented  or  abandoned  the  case  on  account  of 
the  loss  of  time  he  had  sustained  in  appearing  before  jus- 
tices, only  to  hear  the  case  continued,  the  two  days  he  had 
wasted  before  he  was  called  before  the  grand  jury  and  the 
innumerable  delays  attending  court,  he  began  to  feel  that 
he  was  going  to  be  the  greatest  sufferer,  so  he  cried  quits, 
and  the  boys  allowed  to  go  home,  brimful  of  knowledge  of 
the  many  devious  ways  by  which  they  might  attain  the 
property  of  others  with  the  maximum  of  adventure  and 
the  minimum  of  risk. 

When  they  left  the  sheriff's  man,  who  ran  the  store  in 
the  big  building,  was  sorry  and  hoped  they  would  soon  be 
back,  as  they  were  a  nice  set  of  boys  and  good  customers. 


Chapter  XLII 

a  synopsis. 

Florence  Burdett.  after  her  return  from  her  first  tour 
with  the  alderman,  stayed  at  the  North  Side  hotel  for  many 
months.  She  had  a  suite  of  rooms  and  as  a  rule  had  her 
meals  sent  up  to  her — the  help  around  the  establishment 
thought  much  of  her,  as  she  was  liberal  to  them,  having 
money  at  her  control.  The  visits  of  the  alderman  were 
a  matter  of  no  concern  to  them — they  were  all  on — they 


418  A   SYNOPSIS 

knew  the  relationship  that  existed  between  the  cit}-  father 
and  his  fair  protege,  and,  in  keeping  with  the  moral  atmos- 
phere of  the  establishment,  thought  nothing  of  it. 

On  the  adjournment  of  the  city  council  the  following 
year,  Great  went  on  his  annual  vacation,  taking  Florence 
with  him.  On  their  return  he  installed  her  in  a  flat  of  her 
own,  furnished  it  neatly,  and  to  which  he  occasionally  in- 
vited his  friends. 

The  alderman's  career  in  the  council  was  such  that  he 
was  enabled  to  lavish  money  on  her.  She  dressed  well, 
and  having  a  craving  for  jewelry,  let  him  purchase  many 
diamonds ;  she  invariably  knew  when  any  measure  was  put 
over  in  which  he  shared  in  the  graft  to  any  considerable 
extent. 

Her  association  with  him  had  become,  as  many  weddings 
are  in  high  class  society,  merely  a  marriage  of  convenience ; 
she  had  no  particular  affection  for  him,  sometimes  her  dis- 
like became  so  apparent  that  he  chafed  under  her  pointed 
remarks.  He  tried  to  humor  her — she  had  become  the 
spoiled  mistress  of  a  rich  man,  he  the  infatuated  slave  of  a 
handsome  though  not  designing  woman. 

Her  mother  dead,  there  was  no  connecting  link  between 
her  and  her  family,  who  had  long  since  learned  of  the  re- 
lationship between  her  and  the  city  father.  In  fact  it  ceased 
to  be  public  gossip.  Great  liked  to  get  away  from  the  city 
on  his  vacation ;  his  handsome  "wife"  was  known  in  many 
of  the  popular  resorts  in  Europe,  she  was  accomplished, 
her  only  failing  that  she  sometimes  drank  too  freely ;  a 
matter  to  cause  little  criticism  in  the  gay  set  by  which 
they  were  surrounded.  Absinthe  became  a  favorite  bever- 
age of  hers — she  had  first  learned  to  drink  it  in  France. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-five  she  lived  on  one  of  the  South 
Side  boulevards.  She  had  no  intercourse  with  her  neigh- 
bors, they  understood  she  was  very  wealthy  and  judging 
from  what  they  could  see  their  opinion  was  well  grounded. 
She  kept  her  coachman  who  drove  a  beautiful  pair  of 
English  cobs,  whose  tails  were  docked  in  the  most  approved 
manner.     A   housekeeper,   a   lady's   maid,   a  very   discreet 


A    SYNOPSIS  419 

young  woman  she  brought  with  her  from  France ;  and  a 
cook,  who  was  general  utility  man,  a  big,  stout,  colored 
woman  who  lived  outside,  forming  the  family  circle.  She 
was  at  this  time  a  good  entertainer  and  had  many  callers, 
one  in  particular  was  a  frequent  visitor,  the  neighbors  sur- 
mised that  he  was  laying  siege  to  the  "young  widow's" 
hand  and  fortune. 

Florence  used  to  meet  Alary  Vann  occasionally  and  un- 
burden herself.  She  told  Mary  she  was  far  from  happy, 
but  as  she  had  made  her  bed  she  would  have  to  lie  on  it. 

Mary  Vann  and  Herman  Wosta  had  become  estranged, 
partly  through  Mary's  persistence  in  offering  apologies  for 
Florence's  misconduct,  saying  she  was  unfortunate.  Her- 
man was  too  bitter  to  listen  for  a  moment  to  any  extenu- 
ating circumstances.  The  main  cause,  however,  of  their 
disagreement  was  Mary  Vann's  persistence  in  rejecting 
Herman's  suit,  not  but  what  she  liked  the  stalwart  young 
German,  but  she  felt  she  was  not  worthy  of  him.  She  told 
him  on  one  occasion  there  was  no  hope  for  him  as  she  never 
intended  to  marry.  "I  will  be  a  sister  to  you,"  she  said, 
smiling,  but  that  was  not  sufficient  for  Herman,  who  gradu- 
ally dropped  off  seeing  her  at  all. 

Mrs.  Great,  p.roper,  had  aged  rapidly  during  the  past  few- 
years,  her  head  was  nearly  white.  Gossip  had  long  since 
informed  her  of  the  palatial  residence  on  the  avenue  where 
her  liege  lord  spent  most  of  his  time.  She  had  long  since 
ceased  to  reproach  him.  Florence  Burdett  had  been  pointed 
out  to  her,  a  young  woman  full  of  flesh  and  blood,  a  hand- 
some countenance,  an  imposing  appearance,  gaudily 
dressed.  Mrs.  Great  knew  full  well  who  had  bought  these 
clothes,  those  rings  on  her  fingers,  those  diamonds  in  her 
ears.  She  sighed  as  she  made  the  comparison  between 
herself  and  her  rival.  Mrs.  Great  was  failing  in  health  rap- 
idly, the  canker  was  eating  her  heart  out.  She  was  re- 
signed, however,  and  only  cared  to  live  to  do  good  for  oth- 
ers.    She  shared  many  people's  troubles. 


Monroe  Township  continued  to  flourish,  an  industrious, 


420  A   SYNOPSIS 

sober,  enterprising  community.  Father  Chadwick's  congrer 
gation  had  increased  considerably,  and  Scully  had  put  up 
a  building  in  which  those  of  different  denominations  might 
hold  services.  This  had  endeared  him  to  many,  who  saw 
in  him  a  broad-gauged  man,  free  from  race  or  religious 
prejudice.  A  calaboose  had  been  built  and  at  its  comple- 
tion Mike,  who  was  talking  to  Rooney  one  of  the  town  di- 
rectors, remarked,  "Now  we  have  all  the  earmarks  of  civ- 
ilization." Few.  however,  occupied  the  calaboose,  only  the 
drunks. 

"A  splendid  place  to  have  them  sober  up,"  said  Stringer, 
when  he  came  to  plead  for  the  release  of  a  couple  of  his 


Mort,  Bert,  Phipps,  Hart  and  Rock  had  had  a  check- 
ered career  since  last  we  saw  them.  The  first  three  named 
had  been  East  for  a  year  or  two. 

Hart  had  managed  to  evade  the  police  owing  to  their 
incompetency  or  his  pull  with  the  politicians,  partly  both. 

Rock  used  to  tend  bar  for  Hooligan  during  the  day  and 
frequently  go  out  with  Hart  or  Gus  Schultz  at  night,  just 
to  take  the  fresh  air  and  anything  else  they  could  lay  their 
hands  on.  Now  they  were  all  back  together  Hooligan  felt 
happy.  Things  were  coming  his  way — he  was  receiving  a 
good  part  of  the  fruits  of  their  labor,  and  his  old  friends 
and  neighbors  who  had  never  deserted  him  were  getting  a 
few  extra  drinks. 

In  speaking  to  Mort  one  evening  while  the  boys  were 
flush  and  there  was  a  goodly  crowd  lined  up  against  the 
bar.  Hooligan  said,  "This  reminds  me  of  old  times,  years 
ago,  when  Scully  used  to  be  with  us.  I  wonder  what  ever 
became  of  him." 

"O,  he's  dead  before  this,"  replied  Mort,  with  a  sigh, 
"or  we  would  have  heard  from  him.  I  have  a  little  souvenir 
belonging  to  him  I  have  kept  all  these  years  and  wouldn't 
part  with  it  for  love  or  money." 

"Well,  dead  or  alive,"  said  Bert,  "we'll  drink  his  health, 
anyway.     Come.  Hooligan,  fill  up  the  drinks."     When  the 


A   SYNOPSIS  421 

glasses  were  filled,  "Here's  to  our  old  pal,  Mike  Scull\  Z" 
lifting  his  glass. 

"The  best  and  bravest  that  ever  came  down  the  black 
road,"  chimed  in  Phipps.  The  toast  was  drank  with  en- 
thusiasm. 


About  the  time  of  which  we  are  now  writing,  the  alder- 
man had  come  to  spend  the  evening  at  the  house  on  the 
avenue.  While  seated  in  the  parlor  talking  to  the  mis- 
tress of  the  establishment,  he  said,  "What  do  you  think, 
Florence?  I  was  in  the  police  department  to-day,  and  in 
looking  over  the  list  of  applicants  whose  name  do  you  think 
1  saw?" 

"How  am  I  to  tell  ?" 

"You  couldn't  guess  in  a  number  of  times." 

"Maybe  not — who?" 

"Your  uncle,  Herman  Wosta." 

The  name  awoke  unpleasant  memories  in  the  mind  of 
Florence  and  she  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"Do  you  think  he'll  get  on?" 

"No;  the  chief  told  me  he  had  no  one  behind  him;  he 
said  the  alderman  of  the  ward  in  which  he  lives  hardly 
knew  him." 

"Don't  you  think  you  could  get  him  on?" 

"Me?  Why,  I've  enough  to  do  to  take  care  of  the  fel- 
lows in  my  own  ward  without  butting  in  elsewhere." 

"Well,  you'd  do  that  for  me,  wouldn't  you?" 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can.  I  wouldn't  let  any  one  recom- 
mend any  person  from  my  ward  but  myself." 

"You  have  a  colleague,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  but  he  can  only  get  a  job  for  a  fellow  when  I  con- 
cede it  to  him." 

She  looked  him  straight  in  the  face.  "I  want  you  to  get 
Herman  the  position  he  seeks ;  probably  the  family  needs 
it.  See  that  you  attend  to  it  to-morrow  and  don't  come 
back  here  till  you  succeed." 

"Do  you  mean  it?" 

"Yes,  I  mean  it." 


422  THE  GRADUATES 

A  few  days  after  the  above  discussion,  Herman  Wosta 
was  appointed  on  the  police  force  and  assigned  to  Hyde 
Park  Station,  where  McCarthy  shook  hands  with  him  and 
welcomed  him  to  the  force — the  alderman  having  had  Mc- 
Carthy transferred  from  the  Central  to  that  precinct  be- 
cause McCarthy  was  "too  gay,"  in  his  opinion. 


Chapter  XLHI 
the  graduates. 

"The  Grand  Summer  Carnival  of  the  Invincibles,"  was  a 
similar  function  to  that  which  our  readers  were  introduced 
on  the  night  of  the  "Grand  Carnival,  Reception  and  Ball 
of  the  Five  Jolly  Boys." 

It  was  gotten  up  by  a  similar  group  with  the  same  object 
in  view — a  good  time,  as  they  understood  it,  with  hopes 
of  profit,  young  girls  in  short  dresses  and  old  dames  in 
long  ones,  a  number  of  politicians,  the  aldermen  of  the 
ward  being  the  patron  saint,  a  few  staid  people  and  a  mul- 
tiplicity of  3'oung  loafers. 

Tony  Murphy,  Rudolph  Schultz,  Mike  Flynn.  Peter 
Dempsey  and  George  Turveson  attended.  It  was  held  on 
the  South  Side,  remote  from  where  they  lived,  but  the  man- 
aging committee  had  sent  a  number  of  tickets  to  every  well 
known  politician  in  the  city,  Alderman  Great  receiving  a 
liberal  quota,  a  part  of  which  he  gave  to  Hooligan  who  in 
turn  distributed  them  amongst  his  young  patrons. 

As  the  boys  were  leaving  the  dance  about  four  o'clock 
on  a  fine  Sunday  morning  in  the  month  of  August,  George 
Turveson  remarked  that  they'd  had  the  time  of  their  lives, 
girls  were  plentiful,  beer  and  torches  in  abundance.  The 
five  of  them  were  considerably  under  the  influence  of  liquor. 

"Who  was  that  woung  one  in  pink  you  were  dancing  with, 
Tony?"  remarked  Flynn,  as  they  walked  along. 


THE  GRADUATES  423 

"I  noticed  that  she  could  coffin  her  share  of  the  beer," 
said  George. 

"Yes,  she  was  pretty  mushy  when  I  left  her.  I  would 
have  seen  her  home  if  I  wasn't  broke ;  but  when  a  fellow 
has  no  money  he's  not  much  with  the  girls." 

"No,  not  with  her  kind,"  chimed  in  Dempsey,  grinning  at 
Tony. 

"Pipe  the  old  geezer  coming  along,"  said  Schultz.  refer- 
ring to  an  old  man  with  a  full  beard,  a  shabby  suit  of  black 
and  wearing  a  silk  hat  of  an  ancient  origin. 

"Hello,  Isaac,"  said  Turveson,  when  he  got  near  enough 
to  address  him. 

"My  name's  not  Isaac,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  in  a  decided 
foreign  accent. 

"What  is  it  then?"  inquired  Turveson.  "Moses,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"No,  sir;  my  name's  Patrick." 

"Oh,  go  on ;  whoever  heard  of  any  old  Jew  by  the  name 
of  Patrick?" 

"I'm  not  a  Jew,  either,  sir,"  replied  the  old  man,  indig- 
nantly. 

"Let  him  go  about  his  business,"  said  Schultz.  "I  sup- 
pose he's  going  to  the  synagogue,"  at  the  same  time  ad- 
roitly tipping  the  old  man's  silk  hat  over  his  forehead.  The 
old  man  shook  his  stick  menacingly  after  them  as  they  went 
away  laughing.  A  little  further  along  they  met  a  young 
woman  coming  towards  them.  The  five  of  them  occupied 
the  entire  width  of  the  sidewalk.  She  came  right  along 
thinking  they  would  make  room  for  her  to  pass,  but  the 
five  joined  hands  as  soon  as  she  reached  them,  and  forming 
a  ring  danced  around  her.  She  expressed  her  indignation 
but  they  only  laughed  more  heartily. 

"You  dirty  lot  of  pups,"  she  called  after  them,  as  she 
escaped. 

"Go  on,  now,  or  I'll  tell  your  mother  where  you  were 
last  night,"  shouted  Dempsey. 

"It's  well,  seeing  that  you  have  no  mothers,"  she  replied 
back  to  them,  as  she  was  adjusting  her  hat. 


424  THE  GRADUATES 

They  next  met  a  man,  a  laborer.  He  was  hurrying  along 
with  a  can  in  his  hand  and  a  small  paper  parcel  under  his 
arm. 

"You're  rushing  the  growler  early  this  morning,"  said 
Dempsey  to  him. 

The  man  stopped  and  looked  at  them  with  contempt. 

"Where  do  you  work,  my  good  man?"  inquired  Tur- 
veson. 

"What's  that  to  do  with  you?"  retorted  the  man,  sharply. 

"Well,  you  might  be  civil,  anyway,"  replied  Flynn. 

"I'll  give  you  a  poke  in  the  eye,"  responded  the  man, 
"to  make  you  civil." 

"Let's  get  him  arrested,"  said  Tony,  trying  to  look  seri- 
ous. 

The  man  looked  around.  "If  there  was  a  policeman  in 
sight  I'd  see  that  ye's  were  arrested,  you  dirty  lot  of  young 
loafers."    He  walked  away,  followed  by  their  jeers. 

"My!  but  I  must  have  drunk  a  lot  of  booze,"  remarked 
Tony.    "I  feel  stiff." 

"Here's  a  fruit  peddler  coming,"  said  Schultz.  "I'm  going 
to  sample  some  of  his  goods." 

"This  Dago's  out  early,  we  should  encourage  him,"  re- 
marked Turveson,  grinning.  The  five  gathered  around  the 
man's  cart. 

"What  your  pears?"  inquired  Flynn,  picking  up  one. 

"Two  for  five,  three  for  ten." 

"Having  two  grades." 

"O,  you're  too  dear." 

"How  much  bannan's?"  inquired  Dempsey,  attracting 
the  man's  attention. 

"Four  for  five,  good  a  bannana." 

Flynn  slipped  a  couple  of  the  pears  into  his  pocket,  while 
the  man  was  talking  to  Dempsey  about  the  bananas, 

"Those  are  pretty  nice  plums,"  said  Schultz,  as  he  picked 
one  up  and  bit  into  it.  The  man  turned  around  quickly, 
as  he  did  so  Turveson  slipped  a  handful  of  the  bananas 
under  his  coat. 


A  Rash  Act 


THE   GRADUATES  425 

"You  fool-a-me,  yon  don't  want  to  buy,"  said  the  man, 
going  to  the  front  of  his  handcart  to  move  on. 

"Well,  I'll  sample  your  grapes,  any  way,"  said  Tony, 
grabbing  a  bunch. 

Turveson,  Dempsey,  Flynn  and  Schultz  each  grabbed 
some  of  the  man's  fruit  and  took  to  their  heels.  Tony 
tried  to  follow  them  but  was  seized  by  the  Italian  before 
he  could  get  away,  the  peddler  at  the  same  time  yelling, 
"Police !  robbers !  police !  robbers !"  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"Let  me  go!"  shouted  Tony,  trying  to  wriggle  out  of  the 
hands  of  his  captor. 

"Police!  robbers!"  shouted  the  Italian. 

"You  won't  let  me  go,  w^on't  you,"  shouted  Tony,  as  he 
rained  blows  on  the  Italian's  face  and  head.  The  Italian 
still  held  on  in  spite  of  Tony's  effort  to  get  away. 

A  woman  looked  out  from  a  window  opposite  and 
shouted,  "Oh,  you  young  vagabonds,  I've  been  watching 
you!    Dear  me!     Is  there  no  policeman  around?" 

A  man  at  about  the  same  moment  lifted  a  window  in  the 
second  story  of  a  house  on  the  same  side  of  the  street 
where  the  scene  was  being  enacted  and  shouted  encourage- 
ment to  the  Italian  to  hold  him.  Much  as  Tony  desired 
he  couldn't  break  loose ;  the  peddler  continued  to  shout, 
"Police!" 

Tony  while  struggling  noticed  the  knife  with  which  the 
peddler  separated  his  bananas  from  the  stalk  lying  on  the 
cart.  It  was  a  short  butcher  knife  about  six  inches  long  in 
the  blade. 

Tony  reached  for  it  and  grabbing  it  menaced  the  peddler 

with  it,  yelling,  "Let  me  go,  you  son  of  a  b ,  or  I'll  cut 

your  heart  out." 

The  Italian  held  resolutely  to  him. 

"You  won't  let  me  go,  won't  you?  Then  take  that," 
stabbing  the  Italian  in  the  neck.  The  peddler  let  go  his 
hold.     Tony  dropped  the  knife  and  ran. 

The  woman  in  the  window  shouted.  "Murder!  police!" 

The  man  in  the  window  overlooking  the  scene  of  the 
struggle  ran  from  the  window  and  appearing  in  the  street 


426  THE  GRADUATES 

followed  in  pursuit  with  a  number  who  had  joined  in  the 
chase. 

Tony  ran  in  the  same  direction  his  chums  had  taken.  As 
he  turned  the  corner  in  his  flight  he  ran  plump  into  the 
hands  of  a  policeman,  the  crowd  at  his  heels  shouting, 
"That's  the  man !" 

The  man  who  had  witnessed  the  entire  affair  from  his 
window  came  running  up.  He  was  in  his  bare  feet  with 
one  hand  holding  up  his  pants.  "That's  him,  I  saw  the 
whole  affair." 

Tony  was  led  back  to  where  the  Italian  lay  on  the  ground.. 
His  jugular  vein  had  been  severed.  Another  policeman  ar- 
riving helped  to  keep  the  crowd  back  while  Tony  was  being 
led  to  the  box.  He  was  deadly  pale,  conscious  of  what  he 
had  done.  He  never  spoke  a  word.  The  crowd  surged 
forward  to  get  a  look  at  him.  The  second  policeman  who 
had  arrived  appealed  to  them  to  keep  back,  menacing  them 
with  his  club.  The  patrol  arrived  and  Tony  was  placed 
in  it. 

"Mrs.  Herzog  saw  it  all,"  said  the  man  who  was  in  his 
bare  feet,  holding  up  his  hand  and  pointing  to  an  open 
window. 

"Stop  a  minute,  Ryan,"  said  the  policeman,  to  the  driver 
of  the  patrol.  "I'll  go  over  and  hear  what  she  has  to  say." 
He  crossed  the  street  and  knocked  at  the  door.  A  young 
woman  came  down  and  opened  it. 

"You  saw  what  happened  across  the  street  a  while  ago?" 

"No  sir;  it  was  my  aunt,  she's  upstairs."  The  policeman 
followed  her  up  into  the  room ;  the  woman  sat  in  a  chair 
prostrate. 

"You  were  a  witness  to  what  happened  across  the  street, 
my  good  woman?" 

"O  yes,  sir,  I  saw  it  all ;  it  was  terrible !  How  they  abused 
that  poor  man  and  then  murdered  him." 

"Was  there  more  than  one?" 

"There  were  five  of  them ;  the  other  four  ran  away." 

The  policeman  took  her  name  and  that  of  the  man  who 


THE   GRADUATES  427 

had  witnessed  the  affair,  who  was  standing  beside  him 
while  he  was  talking  to  Mrs.   Herzog. 

From  a  distant  corner  Tony's  four  companions  saw  the 
patrol  drive  off  after  the  ambulance  which  had  been  tele- 
phoned for  had  taken  the  remains  of  the  dead  man  away. 

"We'd  better  beat  it,"  said  Flynn.     "This  is  tough." 

"Tony's  pinched  sure,"  remarked  Schultz,  but  none  of 
them  surmised  how  serious  it  was  until  they  were  cap- 
tured the  same  evening — two  of  them  in  Hooligan's,  one 
at  his  home  and  the  other  in  the  poolroom. 

Held  OA-er  to  the  grand  jur}^  which  happened  to  be  in 
session  at  the  time  they  were  speedily  indicted,  Murphy  for 
murder  in  the  first  degree,  the  other  four  as  accessories  be- 
fore the  fact. 

The  whole  Italian  colony  was  aroused.  Giovane  Campa- 
trenelli  w^as  a  highly  respected  Italian,  a  member  of  many 
Italian  societies,  of  one  of  which  he  was  president  and  of 
another  treasurer. 

The  persecution  of  the  Italians  at  the  hands  of  the  young 
hoodlums  had  aroused  a  spirit  of  resentment  in  the  minds 
of  the  Italian  people.  The  sight  of  Campatrenelli's  wife 
and  five  children  appealed  to  their  countrymen  for  revenge. 
The  Italian  consul  took  up  the  case,  money  was  subscribed 
and  the  ablest  lawyers  instructed  to  advise  with  the  state's 
attorney  and  to  see  to  it  that  there  was  no  miscarriage  of 
the  law.  Hooligan  busied  himself,  but  as  the  good  alder- 
man was  away  on  his  vacation  Hooligan  could  do  nothing. 
The  trial  took  place,  the  verdict  was  a  foregone  conclusion. 
The  attorney  for  the  defense  appealed  to  the  jury — his 
youth,  the  environment  in  wdiich  he  had  been  brought  up, 
the  fact  of  his  having  liquor,  the  struggle  between  him  and 
the  man  who  had  been  killed  ;  but  all  in  vain,  the  case  was 
too  clear,  it  took  but  a  short  time  for  the  jury  to  bring  in 
its  verdict.  Tony  Murphy  had  to  die,  his  four  associates 
were  sent  dowm  for  five  years.  An  appeal  was  made  for 
a  new  trial,  a  mere  formal  motion. 

"No  grounds  for  such  a  course."  was  the  emphatic  dec- 
laration of'the  judge,  who  heard  the  appeal.    "It  is  denied." 


428  THE  GRADUATES 

Tony  Murphy  had  but  few  who  could  befriend  him  in 
his  hour  of  trial.  Strangely  his  mind  reverted  to  Scully 
who  had  snatched  him  from  the  flames,  but  he  was  not 
here  now,  and  if  he  was,  what  could  he  do? 

Mrs.  Great  was  sick  for  many  days,  the  terrible  news  of 
what  befell  the  boy  in  whom  she  had  interested  herself 
was  more  than  she  could  bear.  "How  much  better  would 
it  have  been,"  she  said  to  Father  Nolan,  as  he  sat  by  her 
bedside,  "if  God  had  taken  him  when  his  father  and  mother 
met  their  fate." 

The  priest  bowed  his  head ;  he  was  too  full  for  utterance. 

One  cold,  bleak  day  in  the  following  January  a  man 
stood  over  the  sleeping  form  of  a  person  whom  he  knew 
was  having  his  last  sleep  on  earth.  As  he  looked  into  the 
sleeping  man's  face  he  saw  a  smile  come  over  his  coun- 
tenance, he  could  see  his  mouth  move,  as  if  to  speak  to 
some  one.  The  watcher  knew  he  was  dreaming,  he  was 
loth  to  wake  him. 

The  official  had  been  long  in  the  public  service,  it  was 
not  the  first  time  he  had  aroused  the  doomed  to  tell  them 
the  hour  of  reckoning  was  drawing  near,  the  time  to  meet 
their  fate  was  close  at  hand.  In  most  cases  he  had  looked 
upon  such  matters  as  a  part  of  his  official  duty  which  awoke 
no  such  feelings  as  did  this  case.  A  kindly  disposed  man, 
he  felt  for  the  unfortunates  whenever  he  had  occasion  to 
wake  one  from  his  last  fitful  slumber. 

He  was  a  man  up  in  years,  had  a  grown  family  ;  one  son, 
a  young  man  about  the  same  age  as  the  person  he  was 
now  about  to  arouse.  Possibly  this  had  something  to  do 
with  his  nervousness,  for  he  hesitated  before  laying  his 
hand  on  the  slumbering  form.  When  about  to  do  it  he 
was  compelled  to  pause,  and  taking  his  handkerchief  from 
his  pocket  wiped  away  tears  that  coursed  down  his  cheeks 
in  spite  of  every  efifort  he  made  to  suppress  them.  As  he 
did  this  he  sat  down  by  the  cot,  so  that  he  might  recover 
his  composure  and  be  able  to  speak  in  kindly  if  not  cheer- 
ing tones  to  the  condemned,  who  would  have  to  listen  to  his 
dread  awakening.     When  sufficiently  composed  -he  laid  his 


THE  GRADUATES  429 

hand  on  the  sleeping  form  and  shaking  him  gently,  said, 
"Tony,  Tony,  it's  time  to  get  up". 

Tony  opened  his  eyes,  gazed  into  the  kindly  face  of  the 
man  who  had  shown  him  every  kindness  he  could  from  the 
time  he  was  placed  as  one  of  the  death  watch. 

"What  time  is  it,  Mr.  Roberts?" 

"It's  gone  six  and  Father  Nolan  has  been  in  the  office 
for  some  time;  come,  can  I  help  you?" 

The  condemned  laid  the  clothes  aside  and  sat  up  on  the 
edge  of  his  cot.  He  looked  the  picture  of  manly,  robust 
health.  As  he  brushed  the  hair  from  his  forehead  with  his 
hand,  he  disclosed  a  broad,  open  brow,  his  features  were 
well  formed.  His  partly  exposed  chest  showed  splendid 
development,  while  his  arms,  muscular  though  somewhat 
soft,  indicated  great  strength  ;  his  legs  equaled  his  arms  in 
proportion,  his  waist  somewhat  slender,  his  feet  small.  An 
observer  seeing  him  in  dififerent  surroundings  would  think 
him  a  young  athlete  who  had  been  trained  somewhat  too 
fine.  His  face  was  pale.  As  he  reached  out  his  hands  to 
get  his  clothing  it  could  be  seen  they  were  very  soft,  soft 
as  a  woman's,  they  bore  no  mark  of  manual  labor.  This, 
however,  might  in  part  be  accounted  for  by  the  long  term 
he  had  spent  in  prison. 

To  the  student  of  criminology  there  was  little  trace  of  the 
malefactor.  That  he  was  of  a  resolute  disposition  could  be 
seen  from  his  somewhat  square  jaw,  which  was  ofifset  by 
his  dark  brown  eyes  which  in  spite  of  his  long  incarceration 
shone  out  brightly  in  the  dim  morning  light,  which  was 
now  gradually  illumining  his  cell. 

As  he  proceeded  to  dress,  the  turnkey  handed  him  the 
different  parts  of  his  apparel.  "Now,  Tony,  take  a  good 
wash,  it  will  refresh  you,"  placing  a  basin  of  water  on  a 
stool  close  by  him,  the  turnkey  holding  the  towel  until  he 
was  ready  for  it.  The  prisoner  dried  himself,  combed  and 
brushed  his  hair.     Mr.  Roberts  handed  him  his  coat. 

"I  don't  think  I'll  need  it,  Mr.  Roberts,  I  feel  quite  warm." 

Another  person  unobserved  had  taken  a  seat  that  was 
placed  just  outside  the  cell  door. 


430  THE  GRADUATES 

"Now,  Tony,  I  will  go  and  notify  Father  Nolan  that  you 
are  ready  to  receive  him.  I  want  you  to  brace  up  and  be  a 
man."  He  grasped  the  youth  by  the  hand  as  if  to  infuse 
courage  into  him.  Such  advice,  though  kindly  intended 
was  unnecessary.  Tony  Murphy  was  every  inch  a  man  and 
fully  prepared  for  the  trying  ordeal  he  knew  was  to  follow. 
His  sturdy  grasp  of  the  turnkey's  hand  was  a  source  of 
comfort  to  Mr.  Roberts  who  could  not  feel  a  particle  of 
tremor  in  it. 

"I  will  also  have  to  order  your  breakfast.  What  would 
you  like?" 

"A  cup  of  coffee,  and  a  little  toast  will  do." 

To  this  the  turnkey  would  not  agree. 

"No,  Tony,  you  must  have  a  good,  substantial  breakfast, 
it  will  give  you  strength.  It  will  be  an  hour  before  I  can 
bring  it  to  you,  as  Father  Nolan  may  want  a  good  long  talk 
with  you." 

In  this  matter  Tony  knew  better.  As  from  the  time  the 
last  hope  of  reprieve  had  gone,  he  had  listened  patiently 
and  reverently  to  good  Father  Nolan's  ministrations,  he 
having  visited  him  nearly  every  day.  Tony  had  not  only 
told  him  of  the  many  transgressions  he  had  committed,  but 
he  spoke  of  his  early  history,  with  a  good  part  of  which 
Father  Nolan  was  familiar ;  of  his  early  childhood,  as  a 
waif  on  the  streets  selling  newspapers  until  the  time  when, 
in  a  paroxysm  of  passion,  he  had  spilt  the  life  blood  of  a 
man  who  had  never  done  him  wrong.  Tony  Murphy  bore 
malice  to  none  nor  did  he  lay  a  particle  of  blame  to  any  one 
for  the  position  in  which  he  was.  He  had  prayed  fervently 
for  his  own  redemption,  the  repose  of  the  souls  of  his  father 
and  mother,  and  invoked  God's  aid  for  the  woman  and 
children  he  had  deprived  of  their  breadwinner. 

Father  Nolan  met  him  cheerily.  "Good  morning,  Tony,  I 
hope  you  had  a  good  night's  rest?" 

"Yes,  father,  I  slept  sound." 

"T  am  pleased  to  hear  you  say  that.  Now,  while  Mr. 
Roberts  is  away  for  your  breakfast  we  will  say  the  litany." 
Tony  knelt  down,  the  priest  beside  him ;  Father  Nolan  was 


THE  GRADUATES  431 

highly  gratihed  when  he  heard  Tony  answer  the  responses 
with  such  fervor. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  prayers  the  priest  heard  his  last 
confession  and  gave  him  the  rites  of  his  church  and  extend- 
ing his  hands  over  the  still  kneeling  boy  invoked  God's 
forgiveness  for  him  who,  if  brought  up  under  different  con- 
ditions, might  have  been  a  credit  to  his  church,  his  country, 
and  his  race. 

Mr.  Roberts  was  seen  patiently  waiting  outside  the  cell 
gate. 

"Come  in,  Mr.  Roberts,"  said  the  priest,  addressing  him. 

Roberts  noticed  that  Tony  was  remarkably  cheerful.  He 
smiled  when  he  saw  Roberts  followed  by  a  man  bearing  a 
large  tray. 

"I  have  your  breakfast  here  now,"  he  remarked. 

"It  looks  as  if  you  had  exceeded  the  order,  Mr.  Roberts," 
said  Tony,  in  a  cheerful  manner.  "One  would  think  we 
were  going  to  have  company,"  looking  at  the  tray.  "I  feel 
now  as  if  I  could  eat  something." 

"That's  good,"  replied  Roberts. 

On  the  tray  was  a  steaming  coffee  pot,  with  sugar  basin 
and  cream  pitcher,  some  toast  with  poached  eggs,  a  piece  of 
juicy-looking  steak,  and  on  another  plate  some  rashers  of 
bacon,  and  on  another  some  fried  chicken. 

Mr.  Roberts  arranged  everything  nicely  on  the  shelf  that 
served  as  a  table,  and  addressing  the  young  man,  said, 
"Tony,  lad,  just  eat  what  you  like  and  take  your  time  over 
it.     It's  a  long  time  since  you  had  your  supper  last  night." 

A  shadow  crossed  the  priest's  face  whose  mind  reverted 
to  the  fact  that  this  was  the  poor  fellow's  last  meal.  He 
joined  Mr.  Roberts  in  asking  Tony  to  eat  as  best  he  could. 

His  reverence  and  Mr.  Roberts  began  to  talk  about  the 
weather,  how  stormy  it  had  been  the  past  few  days. 

Tony  looked  up  to  the  bars,  where  the  sky  could  be  seen 
and  thought  it  never  looked  brighter.  Up  to  this  time  he 
had  drunk  a  cup  of  coffee,  ate  one  of  the  poached  eggs,  some 
of  the  toast  and  a  little  of  the  bacon.  When  the  reference 
was  made  to  the  weather  which  caused  him  to  look  toward 


432  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE 

the  sky,  he  was  in  the  act  of  swallowing  a  piece  of  the  hot 
muffin  that  looked  so  tempting,  but  it  seemed  to  lodge  in  his 
throat,  his  heart  was  full,  as  was  his  stomach,  he  could  eat 
no  more. 

About  ten  o'clock  footsteps  could  be  heard  approaching 
the  cell,  the  sheriff  and  two  bailiffs  entered,  the  death  war- 
rant was  read.  Tony  heard  it  with  bowed  head.  The  priest 
put  on  his  surplice  and  vestments  appropriate  for  the  occa- 
sion and  the  march  to  the  scaffold  began.  As  the  group 
left  the  cell  one  of  the  bailiffs  placed  his  arm  under  that  of 
Tony — it  was  unnecessary,  though  he  offered  no  objection. 
The  priest  in  solemn  tones  read  the  prayers.  Tony  marched 
with  firm  tread,  occasionally  making  responses  when  ap- 
propriate to  the  priest's  invocation.  Reaching  the  scaffold 
Tony  saw  a  crowd  of  people  seated,  spectators  come  to  see 
a  human  being  done  to  death.  His  arms  and  knees  were 
bound  with  straps,  the  priest  placed  the  crucifix  in  his 
hands  and  Tony  kissed  it.  At  a  signal  a  white  robe  was 
drawn  over  his  head,  the  priest  took  the  crucifix  from  his 
hand  and  held  it  to  the  cloth  near  Tony's  lips.  The  voice 
of  the  clergyman  rang  out  clear  and  loud  in  prayer,  an 
amen  was  heard  as  coming  from  behind  the  hood  which 
covered  the  victim's  head,  the  trap  opened  in  two  parts  and 
the  body  shot  down.  There  was  a  yell  that  rang  through 
the  corridors  of  the  entire  jail,  a  vibration  of  the  rope,  a 
few  spasmodic  jerks  of  the  body,  a  contraction  of  the  knees 
and  all  was  over. 


Chapter  XLIV 
the  st.  lawrence. 


On  the  continent  of  America  there  is  much  magnificent 
scenery,  nearly  all  of  which  has  been  so  oft  described  in 
glowing  terms  that  the  author  who  attempts  to  picture  it 
in  language  new  to  himself  runs  the  risk  of  being  charged 
with  plagiarism. 


THE  ST.   LAWRENCE  433 

In  the  far  west — the  Golden  Gate  where  the  setting'  sun 
shines  in  its  gorgeous  splendor,  where  nature,  prolific  in  the 
extreme,  surpasses  fair  and  fruitful  Italy.  There  the  Cali- 
fornia orange,  the  lemon,  and  the  grape  have  found  con- 
genial soil ;  the  latter  fruit,  while  of  but  recent  cultivation 
as  compared  to  the  vine  culture  of  some  European  coun- 
tries, is  rapidly  reaching  perfection  and  in  a  few  years  bids 
fair  to  equal  the  product  of  the  vineyards  of  France ;  and 
who  has  seen  and  not  wondered  at  the  collossal  proportions 
of  those  giants  of  the  forest,  the  redwood  trees  of  the  Yo- 
semite  Valley  whose  topmost  branches  seem  amongst  the 
clouds? 

There  is  also  scenery  contiguous  to  the  mighty  Columbia 
and  its  tributary  rivers,  whose  majestic  course  runs  nearly 
the  length  of  a  continent,  furnishing  at  some  places  placid 
surfaces,  at  others  wild-flownng  rapids,  with  here  and  there 
waterfalls  rivaling  Niagara. 

There  is  the  Yellowstone  Park  with  its  hills  and  dales, 
mountains  and  valleys,  caves  and  geysers,  some  of  whose 
waters  as  cold  as  if  they  had  come  direct  from  Behring 
Straits,  while  other  springs  supply  water  as  warm  as  if  it 
had  come  direct  from  Hades. 

The  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Colorado — a  product  and  a  con- 
dition which  must  have  taken  millions  of  years  to  bring 
about.  What  purpose  nature  had  in  accomplishing  such  a 
feat  can  only  be  surmised  ;  the  most  probable  being  to  show 
the  Almighty's  wondrous  power. 

There  is  also  Colorado.  wMth  its  Garden  of  the  Gods, 
with  its  peaks  and  rocks  standing  out  majestically,  awe  in- 
spiring in  their  solitary  grandeur — w^hat  convulsion  of  na- 
ture must  have  brought  about  such  stupendous  results !  In 
the  bowels  of  those  mountains  is  wealth  that  has  lured  thou- 
sands to  destruction  in  their  mad  pursuit  of  the  precious 
metals,  where  for  one  who  has  drawn  a  prize  thousands 
have  drawn  blanks. 

It  would  take  volumes  to  describe  the  wonders  of  the 
west  and  the  middle  west  with  its  beautiful  rivers  and  in- 
land seas. 


434  THE  ST.   LAWRENCE 

In  nearly  every  part  of  this  wondrous  country  of  ours 
there  are  points  of  interest  over  which  the  historian  and 
the  geologist,  the  florist  and  the  poet,  may  find  food  for 
thought,  research,  and  inspiration ;  but  only  those  who  are 
rich  may  enjoy  the  sights,  and  as  a  rule  those  prefer  to 
travel  in  foreign  lands,  where  society  furnishes  them  greater 
opportunities  to  display  their  wealth  than  they  find  in  their 
native  land.  The  progeny  of  the  pork-packer,  the  railway 
magnate,  the  coal  operator,  or  the  beneficiary  of  the  infam- 
ous tarifif  legislation,  feel  more  at  home  in  Paris,  London 
or  Berlin,  than  they  do  in  the  land  that  furnishes  them  the 
material  wnth  which  to  mingle  with  a  hereditary  aristoc- 
racy whose  manners  they  desire  to  ape. 

Alderman  Great  and  his  affinity  had  visited  nearly 
all  the  capitals  and  show  places  of  Europe  and  while 
there  felt  at  home ;  with  unlimited  means  he  mixed  with 
the  gayest  of  the  gay,  a  wealthy  American.  None  there 
were  who  inquired  where  he  got  it.  His  partner  at  length 
began  to  surfeit  of  the  pleasures  that  the  first  few  trips 
across  the  ocean  had  given  her.  Her  conscience  often  smote 
her,  she  was  tired  of  masquerading ;  she  had  never  abso- 
lutely forgiven  him  for  his  first  betrayal  of  her,  but  condi- 
tions made  it  imperative  that  she  submit.  Sometimes  af- 
ter paying  a  visit  to  her  mother's  grave,  she  would  reproach 
herself  and  be  morose  for  days.  At  those  times  she  was 
hardly  civil  to  her  wealthy  patron.  He,  recognizing  her 
condition,  used  to  chide  her,  and  increase  his  attention ; 
lavishing  money  on  her. 

When  about  to  start  on  their  last  journey  together,  the 
evening  previous  to  their  going  she  remarked,  "I  under- 
stand your  wife  is  very  sick." 

"Yes,  she  hasn't  been  well  for  some  time." 
"Do  you  think  you  should  go  away  and  leave  her?" 
"What  can  I  do?     She  has  all  the  medical  aid  she  may 
x^equire  and  has  every  comfort  that  can  be  provided  for  her, 
what  more  does  she  want?" 
"She  may  want  you." 


THE  ST.  LAWRENCE  435 

"Oh,  she's  long  since  got  over  that.  I  see  you  are  gloomy 
to-night.     Come,  pack  up." 

Alderman  Great,  like  e\ery  experienced  traveler,  mapped 
out  his  route  before  leaving,  not  that  it  can  alw-ays  be  fol- 
lowed, but  it  is  a  wise  precaution. 

"We  will  take  the  French  line  of  steamers  in  going,  a 
week  in  Paris,  a  week  in  England,  a  few  days  in  Ireland, 
and  then  by  steamers  that  will  bring  us  to  Quebec  and 
home  by  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  lakes.  I  am  sure  you 
will  enjoy  that  trip." 

She  raised  no  objection  to  his  plans,  it  was  a  route  they 
had  never  traveled  before. 

As  the  boat  was  sailing  into  Kingstown  Harbor  the  al- 
derman bethought  himself  of  the  fact  that  it  was  prohib- 
itory to  take  arms  into  Ireland,  so  he  hastily  summoned 
Florence  to  their  cabin  and  taking  his  revolver  and  ammuni- 
tion from  the  case  he  kept  it  in,  said,  "Here,  put  this  in 
your  dressing  case.  I  am  afraid  they  will  confiscate  it 
if  they  find  it  on  me." 

She  smiled  as  he  handed  her  the  weapon.  "What  if  they 
get  it  on  me?" 

"They  are  not  likely  to  ask  you  if  you  carry  a  gun." 

The  revenue  officer  in  looking  at  his  baggage  made  the 
usual  inquiry. 

"Any  arms  of  any  description?" 

"No,  sir." 

Florence  could  hardly  repress  a  smile. 

A  couple  of  days  in  Dublin  and  then  on  to  Killarney. 
They  visited  the  lakes  where  the  beauty  of  the  scenery  en- 
chanted Florence,  then  to  Cork,  and  at  Queenstown  they 
took  the  boat  for  home. 

On  no  part  of  the  American  continent,  if  in  the  wnde 
world,  can  more  magnificent  scenery  be  witnessed  than  can 
be  seen  by  a  trip  on  the  St.  Lawrence  River.  As  the 
steamboat  enters  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  through  the 
Cabot  Straits,  Newfoundland  on  the  right,  Cape  Breton  on 
the  left,  the  scenery  is  superb.  xA.s  the  ship  enters  into  the 
wide  expanse  of  waters  in  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  every 


436  THE  ST.   LAWRENCE 

traveler  who  comes  that  way  cannot  but  be  delighted  at 
the  sight  of  the  verdant  hills,  beautiful  bays  and  inlets, 
rendered  more  enchanting  by  contrast  with  the  dreary  w'aste 
of  waters  while  crossing  the  Atlantic.  As  the  boat  enters 
the  narrows,  past  Anticosti  Island,  the  land  plainly  visible 
on  both  sides  is  a  refreshing  sight,  the  panorama  changing 
every  moment.  If  the  sight  of  land  is  gratifying  to  the 
traveler  in  this  rapid  age,  when  a  trip  across  the  Atlantic 
takes  but  about  seven  days  and  that  on  a  steamer  that  pro- 
vides accommodation  equal  to  that  furnished  by  a  first- 
class  hotel,  how  much  more  so  must  it  have  been  to  the 
tempest-tossed  wayfarers  who  were  on  the  ocean  from 
seven  to  twelve  weeks  in  a  sailing  vessel,  where  the  first 
class,  as  far  as  sanitation  and  ventilation  facilities  were  pro- 
vided, was  not  equal  to  that  of  the  steerage  of  to-day?  But 
how  must  it  have  appeared  to  the  poor  emigrants  that  were 
driven  from  Ireland  by  famine  and  disease,  crowding  the 
emigrant  vessels  far  beyond  their  capacity,  in  their  deter- 
mination to  escape  from  the  land  w^here  pestilence  and  the 
result  of  absolute  starvation  was  fast  depleting  the  popu- 
lation ? 

Much  has  been  written  about  the  horrible  conditions 
under  which  slaves  were  brought  to  this  land  of  the  brave 
and  the  free,  but  let  us  make  comparison  between  those 
conditions  and  that  under  which  Irish  emigrants  were 
brought  to  the  American  continent  during  the  exodus  of 
the  years  1847  and  1848.  immediately  following  the  famine. 

The  Negroes  brought  from  Central  Africa,  in  some  cases 
hundreds  of  miles  to  the  place  of  embarkation,  were  as  a 
rule  in  the  enjoyment  of  physical  health.  They  had  little  if 
any  of  moral  restraint,  crowded  in  the  hold  of  the  slaver, 
the  mingling  of  the  sexes  produced  little  embarassment; 
they  had  to  be  cared  for  to  make  them  fit  for  market.  The 
sickness  or  death  of  any  one  of  them  meant  a  loss  of  hun- 
dreds of  dollars  to  the  slaver  who  claimed  them  as  his 
personal  property. 

During  the  years  aforementioned  every  sailing  vessel  that 
could  be  made  available  to  risk  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic 


THE  ST.  LAWRENCE  437 

embarked  in  the  service.  The  emigrant,  enfeebled  by  the 
ravages  of  hunger  and  the  dreaded  typhus  fever,  had  no 
knowledge  of  the  accommodations  of  the  ship  he  or  she  was 
about  to  embark  in. 

The  shipping  agent  that  secured  the  emigrants'  transpor- 
tation had  no  further  interest  in  them  after  the  moment 
they  reached  the  deck  of  the  vessel.  In  those  days  they 
were  crowded  in  indiscriminately,  protest  on  their  part  be- 
ing of  no  avail  and  only  brought  down  on  them  the  wrath 
of  the  officers  and  sailors  of  the  ship  who  had  no  sympathy 
with  nor  interest  in  them.  Scant  of  food  and  water,  the 
hardships  of  a  protracted  voyage  are  indescribable.  Typhus 
and  ship  fever,  a  lack  of  vegetables,  soon  turned  the  vessel 
into  a  veritable  plague  ship,  so  much  so  that  the  sharks  were 
constant  in  attendance,  knowing  by  instinct  that  every  few- 
miles  of  the  journey  a  victim  would  be  hurled  overboard 
for  them  to  feed  on. 

Statistic  show  that  thirty  out  of  every  thousand  that 
crossed  the  Atlantic  in  those  fatal  days  found  a  watery 
grave.  Death  was  merciful,  the  fever-stricken,  consumed  as 
with  fire,  were  denied  water  with  which  to  quench  their 
burning  thirst,  the  supply  being  limited  and  that  served 
often  of  the  foulest  description.  Young  women  with  the 
highest  ideals  of  Christian  morality  lay  too  weak  to  resist 
the  desires  of  brutal  sailors  whose  animal  instinct  could  not 
be  checked.  There  was  no  help  at  hand,  a  protest  from  a 
friend  would  likely  have  cost  him  his  life. 

What  a  relief,  then,  it  must  have  been  to  the  survivors 
who  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  on  those  pest-ships  to  see 
the  first  sight  of  the  promised  land  ;  how  the  sick  husband 
struggled  in  carrying  his  worse  than  sick  wife  up  the  ladder 
and  through  the  hatch  to  show  her  the  mountains  as  the 
vessel  sailed  along. 

To  show  the  extent  of  travel-  in  those  days,  while  every 
port  received  its  quota,  at  Gross  Island,  one  of  the  quaran- 
tine stations  on  the  St.  Lawrence  River,  eighty-four  emi- 
grant vessels  arrived  between  the  eighth  of  May  and  the 
eighth  of  June,  1847,  every  one  of  which  had  a  number  on 


438  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE 

board  stricken  with  the  plague.  There  being  no  adequate 
accommodations  for  so  large  a  number  of  emigrants,  they 
were  driven  from  the  vessels  and  allowed  to  die  in  the  mud 
or  on  the  beach.  Records  show  that  during  this  period 
over  ten  thousand  of  them  died  on  this  island  alone  and  five 
thousand  unknown  were  buried,  none  there  were  who  could 
identify  them,  orphans  by  the  hundreds  survived  their  par- 
ents and  had  to  be  taken  care  of  by  the  Catholic  Christian 
French,  who  then  comprised  nearly  the  entire  population 
of  this  district. 

In  Montreal  eleven  hundred  of  those  poor  people  lay  at 
one  time  in  different  stages  of  disease  in  temporary  sheds 
put  up  for  their  reception.  The  fever  was  so  contagious  that 
the  ranks  of  the  nuns  who  acted  as  nurses  were  nearly  de- 
pleted, priests  and  bishops  died  from  the  fell  disease,  and 
many  of  the  public  officials  in  their  efforts  to  succor  the 
unfortunates  suffered  the  same  fate. 

In  Kingston,  further  up  the  St.  Lawrence,  a  mound  marks 
the  place  where  the  remains  of  nineteen  hundred  Irish  emi- 
grants lie,  nearly  all  of  whom  were  thrown  into  the  trenches 
dug  to  receive  their  coffinless  bodies,  as  the  historian  fit- 
tingly describes  the  horror,  ''rotted  away  and  died  like  so 
many  sheep."  Such  is  one  of  the  black  pages  in  English 
history.  A  nation  that  could  maintain  armies  and  navies, 
and  subsidize  the  armies  and  navies  of  allied  nations  to 
place  on  the  throne  of  France  a  repudiated  monarch,  and 
to  do  so  raised  and  expended  hundreds  of  millions  of  pounds 
in  their  desire  to  put  down  the  little  Coriscan,  could  not 
or  would  not  prevent  a  famine  in  Ireland  or  stop  the  exodus 
of  its  people,  fraught  with  such  frightful  disaster.  But 
those  events  are  nearly  forgotten.  The  English  press  gave 
them  little  publicity,  it  looked  bad.  The  English  readers 
might  be  shocked  at  such  a  recital,  so  it  v^as  discreetly  sup- 
pressed, but  enough. 

As  the  transatlantic  steamers  bore  Great  and  his  affinity 
on  the  bosom  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  they  viewed  the  many 
points  of  interest  as  their  vessel  plowed  along.  In  Quebec 
they  stayed  a  day,  visiting  the  quaint  old  city,  viewed  the 


THE  ST.  LAWRENCE  439 

surrounding  country  from  Citadel  Hill,  and  saw  the  magni- 
ficent Catholic  Cathedral. 

Florence  Burdett,  who  had  never  received  much  Christian 
training,  educated  in  a  public  school,  seemed  to  have  a 
strange  fascination  to  visit  church  edifices. 

Taking  the  boat  at  Quebec,  the  trip  up  the  St.  Lawrence 
has  a  charm  that  would  take  a  volume  to  describe  even 
meagerly.  Another  day  was  spent  at  Alontreal,  a  change 
i)i  boats,  and  then  through  the  different  rapids  where  the 
bubbling  turbulent  stream  excites  the  curiosity  of  the  trav- 
eler and  taxes  the  ingenuity  of  pilots  to  steer  clear  of  the 
many  shoals  whose  close  proximity  at  times  would  seem 
to  endanger  the  boat,  thence  through  the  Thousand  Isles, 
the  paradise  of  America,  where  many  of  its  millionaires 
have  their  summer  homes,  through  Lake  Ontario,  Lake 
Erie,  Lake  Huron  and  into  Lake  Michigan. 

Florence  Burdett  had  never  taken  a  trip  that  gave  her 
so  much  satisfaction.  Great  had  been  so  attentive  that  he 
had  attracted  the  commendations  of  his  fellow  passengers. 
"Such  a  devoted  husband."  was  many  times  heard  in  whis- 
pered conversation  amongst  their  fellow  passengers. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  one  lady  to  another,  "they  mustn't 
be  long  married." 

"Maybe  this  is  their  honeymoon,"  surmised  another.  "I 
wonder  who  he  is?  He  must  be  very  rich,  look  at  her  dia- 
monds." 

In  spite  of  all  his  attentions  a  sense  of  gloom  used  to 
come  over  Florence  as  she  approached  Chicago  which  she 
could  not  shake  off. 

Reaching  the  dock  at  Clark  street  he  gave  orders  as  to 
the  transfer  of  their  baggage. 

Handing  Florence  into  a  carriage,  he  whispered,  "I  will 
be  around  to-morrow,"  as  she  was  driven  off. 

Taking  another  cab  he  gave  the  driver  instructions  that 
would  take  him  to  his  home. 


440  the  accident 

Chapter  XLV 
the  accident. 

"It  was  very  sad.  The  poor  boy  from  his  birth  seemed 
born  to  trouble.  His  unfortunate  father  taking  to  drink 
and  then  his  mother  getting-  careless,  the  child  was  ne- 
glected, then  came  the  fire  that  robbed  him  of  his  parents. 
You  tell  me,  father,  he  died  courageously?" 

"He  never  showed  a  particle  of  fear,  I  could  see  he  was 
loth  to  leave  this  world,  hard  and  all  as  it  was  to  him.  It 
would  seem  as  if  he  would  have  liked  another  opportunity  to 
do  better  in  the  future,  which  I  sincerely  believe  he  would 
if  his  life  had  been  spared." 

"Yes,  it  is  hard  to  die  young,  especially  for  one  like  him, 
full  of  health  and  vigor.  You  tell  me,  father,  he  was  truly 
penitent?" 

"None  ever  died  more  so.  He  asked  forgiveness  with 
all  the  fervor  of  a  saint  and  prayed  that  God  might  help 
the  widow  and  the  orphans  from  whom  his  hand  had  taken 
husband  and  father." 

Mrs.  Great  shed  tears  as  Father  Nolan  continued  his  re- 
cital of  the  last  hours  on  earth  of  Tony  Murphy. 

"We  buried  him  in  accordance  with  your  instruction, 
ma'am.  He  now  rests  in  peace  beside  his  father  and 
mother." 

"Amen,"  she  said.  "In  a  little  time.  Father  Nolan,  we 
will  place  a  cross  or  stone  of  some  description  to  mark  their 
graves.  I  feel  weary  and  tired ;  I  think  I  will  lie  down  for 
a  little  while." 

As  the  spring  and  summer  advanced  Mrs.  Great  began 
to  fail  perceptibly.  Her  hair  was  white  as  snow,  giving  her 
the  appearance  of  a  woman  well  up  in  years.  Never  stout, 
her  form  was  now  shrunken  ;  her  face,  bloodless,  resembled 
that  of  a  recluse  who  had  spent  many  years  in  the  close 
conf-nes  of  a  nunnery.  In  the  early  summer  her  strength 
seemed  to  fail  her,  her  usual  custom  of  attending  mass 
every  morning  became  a  severe  labor  to  her.     Dr.   Fitz- 


THE   ACCIDENT  441 

gerald,  her  family  physician,  advised  her  to  stay  at  home. 

"Doctor,  I  can't  do  that;  if  I  didn't  go  to  church  I 
wouldn't  go  out  at  all,  and  surely  that  would  be  worse. 
Tt  has  been  my  custom  for  years,  and  is  a  great  consola- 
tion to  me  to  be  able  to  go ;  'tis  but  a  short  distance — I  feel 
the  benefit  of  the  walk,  then  the  rest  in  the  church,  of  both 
body  and  mind.  You  know,  doctor,  one  is  apt  to  forget 
one's  own  troubles  when  one  contemplates  what  our  Re- 
deemer suffered.  Then,  when  I  get  home,  I  in\-ariably  get 
a  little  sleep  and  awake  quite  refreshed." 

This  argument  silenced  the  medical  man,  he  knew  the 
great  force  of  religious  consolation  to  a  mind  fraught  with 
trouble  like  that  of  his  patient.  The  time  spent  in  going 
to  the  church,  in  religious  devotion,  and  in  returning — and 
then  the  sleep,  no  matter  how  short  the  duration,  was  a 
relief  for  the  time  to  her  mind  from  the  canker  that  was 
fast  consuming  her  vitality. 

During  the  months  of  June  and  July,  the  weather  had 
been  exceptionally  warm,  the  friends  of  Mrs.  Great  used 
all  their  pursuasive  powers  to  get  her  to  leave  the  city,  but 
their  appeals  were  in  vain. 

'T  am  more  comfortable  in  my  own  home,  I  prefer  my 
own  bed  and  board  to  any  I  could  secure  in  a  hotel,  no  mat- 
ter where  I  went.     As  for  sightseeing,  I  have  already  seen 
enough.     If  I   was   young  and   could   go   mountain   climb- 
ing," she  said,  smiling,  to  a  lady  friend  who  was  pressing 
lier  to  go,  "or  if  I  could  take  long  walks  through  wood  and 
glen,  or  even  flounder  around  in  the  surf,  it  would  be  dif- 
ferent.    So  here  I  have  to  stay  and  content  myself  with 
what  I  have.    You're  my  confidant  and  know  my  troubles, 
so  I  must  say,  as  many  more  of  my  sex, 
"If  what  I  want,  I  cannot  get. 
Then  what  I  have 
j\Iy  heart  on  I  must  set.'  " 

The  reverend  Father  Nolan  visited  her  frequently,  not 
with  the  object  of  ministering  to  her  spiritual  w^elfare,  of 
that  he  had  no  thought,  none  was  necessary ;  but  to 
gossip  wnth  her  about  affairs  in  the  parish.     If  he  had  ^ 


442  THE  ACCIDENT 

need}^  case,  to  solicit  her  aid,  which  was  never  denied.  He 
liked  to  cheer  her  up  as  best  he  could  and  tell  her  the  news. 
She  liked  to  hear  him  ring  the  bell,  there  was  no  mistaking 
his  summons.  As  the  girl  opened  the  door  she  made  a 
courtesy  to  him,  who  in  return  said,  "Good  morning,  Mary; 
how  are  you  to-day?  Where's  the  mistress?  Is  she  in 
the  parlor?" 

"Yes,  father." 

His  reverence  knew  when  to  time  his  visits,  and  invariably 
found  her  at  the  window  watching  the  children  at  play. 
Leaving  the  girl  to  close  the  door,  he  approached  the  parlor, 
gave  a  little  knock,  at  the  same  time  pushing  the  door. 
Mrs.  Great  would  immediately  rise  from  her  chair,  his  rev- 
erence would  raise  his  hand  in  the  air  as  a  signal  for  her 
to  be  seated.  He  pulled  a  chair  and  sat  down  close  to  the 
window,  where  he  could  also  see  the  children  at  play.  He 
then  commenced  a  conversation  on  such  topics  as  he 
thought  would  interest  her,  complimenting  her  on  her  good 
looks  and  praising  Dr.  Fitzgerald  who,  he  felt  sure,  was  do- 
ing her  some  good.  The  conversation  usuall}-  drifted  to 
church  afifairs,  from  that  to  the  poor  of  the  parish,  Mrs. 
Great  was  ever  solicitous  for  the  welfare  of  the  young  chil- 
dren, especially  the  girls,  to  whom  she  gave  an  annual  trip 
to  some  of  the  larger  city  parks,  paying  all  expenses  for 
transportation  and  refreshments.  When  in  better  health 
she  went  with  them.  This  summer  Father  Nolan  would 
have  to  make  all  arrangements  w^ith  Mother  S . 

Mrs.  Great  said,  on  one  occasion.  "Order  everything  that 
the  children  may  require  and  send  the  bill  to  me.  I 
want  the  girls  to  have  a  good  time  while  they  are  young, 
and  free,  for  there's  no  telling  what  they  may  have  to  go 
through." 

She  thought  of  her  own  experience,  probably  as  a  happy 
daughter  of  honest,  industrious  parents,  before  she  met  her 
fate. 

When  the  conversation  began  to  flag,  his  reverence  would 
look  around  and,  in  a  tone  of  assumed  reproach,  say,  "X'N^ell, 
this  is  a  mighty  poor  house  to  come  to."  and  this  remark 


THE   ACCIDENT  443 

always  brought  a  smile  to  the  lady's  face,  who  knew  his 
reverence  was  anxious  for  a  smoke.  He  knew  it  pleased 
her  to  see  him  enjoy  a  cigar  in  her  home,  as  being,  besides 
her  spiritual  adviser,  her  closest  and  sincerest  friend. 

Mary  was  notified  to  bring  the  box,  which  was  kept  es- 
pecially for  his  reverence's  use. 

"Mary,  do  you  think  those  are  all  right?"  he  would  in- 
quire. 

"I  think  they  are,  your  reverence ;  but,  sure,  I'm  no 
judge." 

"Do  you  think  they're  the  kind  Patrick  smokes?"  laugh- 
ing at  the  maid. 

Patrick  was  known  to  be  Mary's  young  man. 

"I  don't  know,  your  reverence,"  blushing. 

"I  suppose  he  smokes  a  dudeen,  like  the  rest  of  his  coun- 
trymen?" 

"He  smokes  cigars,  too,  I've  seen  him,"  chimed  in  Mrs. 
Great,  coming  to  Mary's  assistance. 

"Yes,  when  he's  in  company,  I  suppose ;  but,  Mar3^  if 
you  search  him  I'd  wager  you'd  find  a  little  black  dudeen 
in  one  of  his  pockets." 

Such  good-natured  banter  seemed  to  amuse  the  sick 
woman.  His  reverence's  cigar  bein^  now  lit,  the  subject 
of  the  weather  and  other  matters  would  find  place  in  the 
general  conversation  which  would  follow,  and  when  the 
cigar  was  about  consumed  and  his  reverence  was  about  to 
take  his  leave  he  would  admonish  her  to  take  good  care 
of  herself,  promising  another  call  in  the  near  future,  and 
depart,  silently  invoking  a  blessing  on  the  head  of  one  he 
knew  full  well  was  not  long  for  this  world. 

On  the  first  day  of  September  it  rained  in  torrents,  the 
thought  of  Mrs.  Great's  walking  to  church  was  out  of  the 
question,  so  the  carriage  was  ordered.  Mary  had  to  go  with 
her,  but  on  alighting  from  the  carriage  at  the  church  door. 
Mrs.  Great  placed  her  foot  on  -the  step  and  her  strength 
seeming  to  fail  her,  she  collapsed  and  fell  heavily  to  the 
ground,  ere  Mary  could  avert  it.  A  number  of  those  about 
to  enter  the  sacred  edifice  ran  to  her  assistance. 


444  THE  ACCIDENT 

She  had  not  lost  consciousness,  but  in  tones  scarcely 
audible,  said,  "I  am  not  much  hurt.  I  will  be  better  in 
a  little  while." 

Two  men  who  had  seen  the  occurrence  bore  her  into  the 
priest's  house  and  laid  her  on  a  lounge,  a  number  of  ladies 
who  had  seen  the  mishap  followed.  A  messenger  was  dis- 
patched for  Dr.  Fitzgerald,  and  a  call  for  Father  Nolan, 
who  was,  luckily,  on  the  premises  at  the  time,  but  ere  he 
could  reach  the  room  in  which  she  lay  she  had  fainted. 

When  the  fainting  spell  had  passed  his  reverence  told 
her  to  lie  still.    "We  have  sent  for  Dr.  Fitzgerald." 

"I  don't  think  there  is  any  harm  done.  I  must  have  slip- 
ped my  foot  on  the  step.    You  see,  father,  I  am  not  strong." 

When  the  doctor  arrived  he  first  administered  a  restor- 
ative and  then  made  a  casual  examination.  "I  don't  think 
there  are  any  bones  broken — she  may  have  possibly 
sprained  her  ankle,"  addressing  the  priest,  "but  we  must 
get  her  home." 

Mary,  whose  grief-stained  eyes  proclaimed  her  anguish, 
feared  that  she  was  in  a  measure  to  blame  for  not  being 
more  careful  of  her  mistress.  They  lifted  her  and  carried 
her  to  her  carriage,  the  doctor  and  Mary  accompanying  her 
home.  She  was  still  too  weak  to  walk,  the  doctor  and  coach- 
man bearing  her  as  gently  as  if  she  Avere  a  child. 

"We  will  take  her  right  to  her  bedroom,  Mary,"  was  the 
doctor's  orders. 

When  the  coachman  had  retired,  Mary  proceeded  to  un- 
dress her  mistress  so  as  to  give  opportunity  to  the  doctor 
to  make  a  thorough  examination. 

"It  is  apparent,  Mrs.  Great,  no  bones  are  broken.  I  see 
there  is  a  slight  abrasion  on  your  left  temple ;  perhaps  you 
grazed  the  step  of  the  carriage  in  falling  or  probably  it  was 
done  when  you  struck  the  sidewalk." 

There  was  a  loud  knocking  at  the  door  and  a  ring  of  the 
bell,  the  newcomer  being  Father  Nolan  who  had  followed 
the  carriage  on  foot.    The  good  man  was  out  of  breath. 

"How  is  she,  doctor?"  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he  reached 
the  room. 


THE   ACCIDENT  445 

"There  seems  no  serious  injury,  but  in  falling  she  must 
have  struck  her  head  against  something,  stunning  her  for 
a  time ;  but  with  a  few  days'  rest  she'll  be  all  right  again." 

The  priest  approached  the  bedside  on  which  lay  one  of 
the  most  faithful  of  his  flock.  He  took  her  hand  in  his  and 
gave  it  a  gentle  pressure — it  spoke  volumes  of  the  love  and 
sympathy  he  had  for  the  gentle  sufiierer  who  smiled  in 
acknowledgment.  No  word  was  spoken.  He  knew  of  her 
sorrow,  and  her  secrets,  and  her  fallen  hopes  and  his  heart 
was  too  full  for  his  tongue  to  give  expression.  He  gently 
laid  the  poor  thin  hand  down  by  her  side,  turned  to  the 
doctor  and  both  gentlemen  left  the  room. 

When  they  reached  the  sidewalk  Father  Nolan  faced  Dr. 
Fitzgerald  and  said,  "Doctor,  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  3^our 
patient.     I  think  she's  a  very  sick  woman." 

"You  are  right,  father ;  she  is  very  sick  indeed.  As  we 
both  know,  she  has  a  great  deal  of  trouble  of  the  kind  most 
women  take  seriously  to  heart.  She  is  of  a  sensitive  dis- 
position and  feels  the  slight  terribly.  This  thing  has  been 
going  on  for  years  and  of  course  she  is  fully  aware  of  it. 
She  suffers  in  silence,  the  worst  of  all  methods  for  a  woman 
to  undergo.  If  she  was  of  a  different  disposition,  and  would 
put  up  a  fight,  it  would  be  much  better  for  her,  but  she 
is  not  made  that  way.  She  prays,  while  other  women 
would  curse.  Her  method  would  be  better  for  the  spirit, 
but  I  can  assure  your  re\'erence,  the  other  method  would 
be  a  great  deal  better  for  the  flesh." 

"Maybe  you're  right,  doctor.  I  have  tried  myself  to 
distract  her  attention  from  her  real  sorrow  by  interesting 
her  in  the  troubles  of  others,  to  whom  she  was  always  will- 
ing to  give  aid." 

"Well,  we'll  see  what  a  night's  rest  will  do,"  as  he  parted 
with  the  clergyman  at  the  corner. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  doctor  the  following  morning, 
Mary's  eyes  showed  the  effect  of  her  long  vigil,  her  "dear 
mistress  was  awake  nearly  all  the  night ;  w^henever  I  asked 
her  if  she  wanted  anything  she  shook  her  head.  I  gave  her 
the  medicine  you  ordered,  bathed  her  forehead  and  moist- 


446  THE  ACCIDENT 

ened  her  lips,  but  she  never  complained  of  anything.  When 
she  slumbered  she  awoke  as  from  a  dream.  I  placed  my 
ear  to  her  lips  once  when  I  thought  she  was  sleeping.  I 
heard  her  talking  about  the  master."  When  Mary  came 
to  this  part  of  her  narrative  she  could  go  no  further,  but 
broke  out  into  bitter  sobbing. 

The  doctor  passed  into  the  sick  room.  At  the  first  glance 
toward  his  patient  he  was  alarmed  at  the  remarkable 
change ;  the  face,  deadly  pale,  had  become  glazed,  resem- 
bling marble.  As  he  took  hold  of  her  wrist  she  opened 
her  eyes  and  gave  him  a  look  of  recognition.  After  he  had 
timed  her  pulse  he  bent  over  her  and  said,  "Well,  Mrs. 
Great,  how  do  you  feel  now?" 

"I  have  little  pain,  but  I  am  weary  and  weak." 

"That  is  natural,  after  the  shock  you  received,  but  a  day 
or  two's  rest,  let  us  hope,  will  restore  you." 

She  shook  her  head  but  made  no  further  reply. 

"Well,  now,  don't  let  anything  trouble  you.  I  will  have 
to  get  some  one  to  help  Mary." 

Mrs.  Great  nodded  her  approval. 

The  doctor  knew  that  Mary  could  attend  to  all  her  phys- 
ical wants,  but  the  girl's  sympathetic  nature  and  weeping 
face  was  likely  to  produce  a  melancholy  that  would  afifect 
his  patient,  already  suffering  from  that  dread  disease. 

He  went  to  the  phone  and  called  up  Miss  Genevieve 
Brown,  and  on  getting  a  reply  was  pleased  to  find  that  she 
was  at  home  and  at  liberty. 

"I  would  be  pleased  to  have  you  come  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, Miss  Brown." 

"I  will  be  there  within  thirty  minutes,  doctor,  if  the  cars 
don't  fail  me." 

"Well,  I'll  wait  for  you,  good-bye,"  the  doctor  hung  up 
the  receiver,  pleased  that  he  had  got  the  nurse  he  wanted. 

As  soon  as  Miss  Brown  arrived,  Mary  notified  the  doc- 
tor, who  was  sitting  with  his  patient. 

"Mary,  the  young  lady  downstairs  is  coming  to  take 
charge  of  your  mistress.    You  will  find  her  a  very  nice  per- 


THE  ACCIDENT  447" 

son  and  of  course  you'll  render  her  what  assistance  you 
can." 

Mary  promised  she  would,  but  begged  not  to  be  excluded 
from  her  mistress's  room. 

"It  is  expected  that  you  will  share  in  the  work,  but  in 
my  absence  Miss  Brown  will  be  the  sole  judge.  I  have 
no  doubt  you  and  she  will  get  on  agreeably ;  now  go  down 
and  send  her  up." 

The  doctor  met  Miss  Brown  on  the  landing  and  ushered 
her  into  a  room  other  than  the  one  in  which  his  patient 
was  lying. 

"This  lady  whom  you  are  going  to  nurse  is  the  wife  of 
one  of  our  influential  public  officials.  She  had  a  fall  while 
alighting  from  her  carriage  yesterday  to  enter  church.  The 
fall  of  itself  had  no  serious  effect,  but  as  her  condition  is 
very  low  on  account  of  a  long  mental  strain  I  fear  for  the 
worst.  She  is  a  very  devout  woman,  and  life  has  more 
terrors  for  her  than  death.  Your  experience  in  such  cases 
must  have  shown  you  the  difficulties  of  our  situation.  Don't 
let  that  crying  woman  go  near  the  bed  unless  she  can  sup- 
press her  tears.  Remember,  however,  she  is  the  confiden- 
tial servant  and  friend  of  your  charge,  so  you  will  have  to 
use  your  best  judgment  in  the  premises." 

"You  can  safely  leave  that  to  me,  doctor.  I  think  I  know 
how  to  manage  the  girl.  I  will  have  a  talk  with  her  when 
you  are  gone."    With  that  they  both  entered  the  sick  room. 

Dr.  Fitzgerald  introduced  Miss  Brown  as  a  very  excellent 
nurse  in  whom  he  had  great  confidence ;  that  she  was  an 
experienced  person.  "I  feel  confident  you  will  be  pleased 
with  her,  Mrs.  Great." 

Mrs.  Great  raised  her  pale,  thin  hand  to  the  nurse,  who 
took  it  in  a  gentle  grasp,  held  it  for  a  moment  and  then 
tucked  it  under  the  bed  clothing.  She  then  placed  her  hand 
under  the  sick  woman,  gently  raised  her  head  and  pulled 
the  pillow  from  under  it,  turned  it  over  with  her  right  hand 
and  pressed  it  gently  together  until  it  seemed  to  be  soft 
and  full,  then  laid  the  weary  head  back  into  its  soothing  re- 
cess. 


448  THE  ACCIDENT 

Dr.  Fitzo^erald,  after  telling-  the  nurse  that  he  would  be 
in  again  during  the  afternoon,  took  his  departure. 

The  nurse  on  his  leaving,  opened  her  handbag,  took  out 
some  extra  clothing;,  a  cap  and  an  apron,  which  she  ad- 
justed on  her  person,  then  took  a  sur\ey  of  the  room,  ar- 
ranged the  windows  to  admit  the  proper  ventilation,  fixed 
the  blinds  so  as  to  regulate  the  light,  examined  the  bottles 
that  were  on  the  table,  arranged  her  chair,  straightened  out 
the  bedclothes  and  then  in  a  gentle,  soothing  voice  asked 
the  sick  woman  if  she  wanted  anything.  Mrs.  Great,  who 
had  watched  her  intentl}^  merely  shook  her  head. 

"I  am  going  to  leave  you  for  a  few  minutes — I  want  to 
see  Mary  about  some  matters,  and  will  be  right  back." 

Mary  had  waited  patiently  in  the  middle  room  in  ex- 
pectancy of  a  visit  from  the  nurse.  During  her  waiting 
she  could  not  satisfy  her  mind,  whether  or  not  Dr.  Fitz- 
gerald was  right  in  bringing  a  strange  woman  to  nurse  her 
mistress.  "Sure,  I  could  attend  to  all  her  wants,  and  who 
knows  better  than  I  how  to  handle  her,  whose  troubles 
and  secrets  I  am  familiar  with,  and  this  strange  woman 
would  not  know  of  the  family  dififerences."  Her  reverie 
was  cut  short  by  the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  stairs. 

]\Iary  went  out  and  met  the  nurse  in  the  passage  and 
brought  her  into  the  room  where  she  had  been  waiting. 
Miss  Brown  at  once  commenced  the  conversation.  "Mary — 
I  believe  that's  your  name, — your  mistress  is  very  sick  in- 
deed, but  Dr.  Fitzgerald  is  a  man  of  great  skill,  who  can 
be  relied  upon  to  use  every  means  known  to  the  profession, 
and  you  and  I,  Mary,  will  have  to  do  all  in  our  power  to 
assist  him  in  bringing  your  mistress  back  to  health." 

This  display  of  confidence  on  the  part  of  Miss  Brown 
touched  a  tender  chord  in  the  breast  of  Mary,  who  said 
she  could  stay  up  night  and  day  to  attend  to  her  dear  mis- 
tress. 

Mar3^felt  it  was  necessary  to  tell  Miss  Brown  how  good 
a  woman  Mrs.  Great  was,  how  good  she  was  to  the  poor, 
how  devoted  to  the  church  and  how  kind  to  all  who  ever 
had  dealings  with  her,  and  how  much  she  had  been  wronged 


THE   ACCIDENT  449 

and  abused.  Mary  never  dwelt  on  this  phase  of  the  ques- 
tion witliout  having  recourse  to  tears.  Miss  Brow^n  chided 
her  for  showing  so  much  feeling  and  used  the  circum- 
stance to  give  her  a  lecture  she  desired  to  impose. 

"Now^  Mar}',  this  will  never  do.  If  you  carry  on  this 
way  you  will  be  no  assistance  to  me,  but  a  detriment,  and 
I  am  afraid  I  will  not  be  able  to  let  you  into  the  sick  room 
at  all." 

This  threat  only  increased  Mary's  flow  of  tears. 

Miss  Brown  assumed  anger  and  said,  "Mary,  this  will 
never  do.     I  am  very  angry  at  you." 

Mary,  between  her  sobs,  said,  "Miss  Brown,  don't  blame 
me,  sure  I  cannot  help  it ;  you  don't  know  the  trouble  we 
have  been  having,  and  how  good  the  mistress  is  to  me." 

Miss  Brown  promised  forgiveness  on  condition  that  she 
should  brace  up  and  be  more  cheerful.  "You  see,  Mary, 
your  mistress  is  somewhat  melancholy  and  if  you  were 
to  be  going  into  her  room  crying  like  a  lusty  booby, 
you  would  make  her  a  great  deal  worse,  in  fact,  be  likely  to 
kill  her ;  so  unless  you  become  reasonable  and  brace  up, 
we  can  never  get  on  at  all.  What  I  want  you  to  do  when 
you  come  into  the  sick  room  is  to  be  respectful  and  business- 
like, just  as  if  this  sickness  was  an  every-day,  ordinary  af- 
fair that  would  come  out  all  right  in  a  little  time." 

Mary  promised  that  she  would  try  and  follow  instruc- 
tions. She  then  showed  Miss  Brown  where  she  might  get 
a  supply  of  bedclothing  and  other  necessaries. 

"After  seeing  the  doctor  I  will  tell  you  what  food  and 
drink  to  prepare  for  our  patient." 

Miss  Brown  repaired  to  the  sick  room  to  commence  her 
vigil.  About  four  o'clock  the  doctor  arrived,  but  found  lit- 
tle change  in  his  patient.  She  had  been  very  quiet,  requir- 
ing no  attendance.  "I  gave  her  a  drink  and  made  her  com- 
fortable in  bed,"  said  the  nurse.  The  doctor  felt  the  sick 
woman's  pulse,  which  he  found  weak  and  intermittent,  put 
his  stethoscope  to  her  chest,  and  found  her  heart  very  weak. 
With  this  condition  he  was  familiar. 

"She  is   not   likely   to   require   any   food — probably  you 


450  THE  ACCIDENT 

might  induce  her  to  take  a  little  beef  tea  or  chicken  broth; 
see  about  having  it  ready.  We  must  try  and  have  her  take 
something — her  vitality  is  very  low." 

"I  have  had  a  talk  with  Mary.  She  is  so  tender-hearted 
I  feel  sorry  for  her,  but  after  the  lecture  I  gave  her,  think 
she  will  do  fairly  well." 

"On  the  first  alarming  symptoms,  Miss  Brown,  telephone 
me  right  away.  If  I  am  not  in  my  office  I  will  try  and  keep 
in  touch  with  my  people,  so  they  can  get  me  any  hour  of 
the  day." 

Father  Nolan  arrived  shortly  after  the  doctor  had  left 
and  was  about  to  enter  the  sick  room.  Miss  Brown  came 
out  on  the  landing,  closing  the  door  behind  her. 

"Good  afternoon,  your  reverence." 

"Good  afternoon,  miss.  I  suppose  you  are  the  young 
lady  who  has  come  to  nurse  Mrs.  Great?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  am  just  going  in  to  see  how  she  is." 

"I  would  much  prefer  you  wouldn't.  She  is  resting  now, 
and  I  cannot  allow  her  to  be  disturbed." 

This  said  in  a  firm  but  respectful  tone  disconcerted  the 
priest.  "Why,  I  am  not  only  her  spiritual  advisor,  but  also 
an  old  friend  of  the  family." 

"I  am  pleased  to  hear  that,  and  will  be  happy  to  give  you 
any  information  as  to  her  condition,  and  send  for  you  when 
I  deem  it  advisable."  Miss  Brown's  firmness  convinced  the 
pastor  he  would  have  to  forego  his  interview  on  this  occa- 
sion. 

On  returning  downstairs  Mary  was  awaiting  to  get  the 
news  and  also  his  opinion.  When  he  told  her  he  hadn't 
been  able  to  see  the  mistress,  the  girl  was  terribly  sur- 
prised and  disappointed,  for,  like  all  of  her  religious  persua- 
sion, she  had  great  faith  in  the  opinion  of  the  priest,  whose 
experience,  learned  from  many  sick  calls,  is  equal  if  not 
surpassing  that  of  the  medical  profession,  whose  judgment 
is  often  influenced  by  the  faith  they  have  in  their  medical 
skill. 

His  reverence  left  with  a  heavy  heart.     He  had  formed 


THE   ACCIDENT  451 

an  opinion  that  Mrs.  Great  was  in  a  serious  condition.  Dur- 
ing the  entire  evening  the  sick  woman  lay  in  a  comatose 
state. 

Mary  awaited  a  call  that  never  came.  About  eleven 
o'clock  she  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  sick  room.  She  had 
hoped  to  be  allowed  to  sit  up  with  Miss  Brown.  "No, 
Mary,  you  go  right  to  bed ;  the  mistress  is  resting  nicely 
now,  and  I  would  not  have  her  disturbed,  even  by  a 
whisper.     If  I  want  you  during  the  night  I  will  call  you." 

Shortly  after  midnight  Mrs.  Great  began  to  talk  in  her 
sleep.  The  word  "Tom"  was  often  on  her  lips.  She  seemed 
to  be  appealing  to  some  one  to  return  to  her.  At  other 
times  she  spoke  as  if  in  anger,  some  woman  was  wronging 
her.  "Husband,"  and  "Why  should  you  take  him  from 
me?"  such  was  her  rambling  talk.  As  the  night  advanced 
Miss  Brown  got  uneasy.  Her  patient's  breathing  became 
more  spasmodic  and  irregular.  The  nurse's  experienced  ear 
placed  close  to  the  breast  of  the  sick  woman  detected  an 
irregularity  in  the  beating  of  the  heart.  She  thought  she 
would  have  to  summon  the  doctor ;  but  the  patient  gave  a 
heavy  sigh  which  seemed  to  bring  relief,  so  she  decided  to 
wait  until  morning.  At  seven  a.  m.  Miss  Brown  went  to 
the  telephone  and  after  getting  the  doctor  on  the  wire  told 
him  he  had  better  come  over  here  on  his  first  call. 

The  doctor  inquired  how  Mrs.  Great  spent  the  night. 

"Her  slumber  has  been  disturbed  by  dreams — she  shows 
symptoms  of  being  delirious." 

"I  will  be  over  within  a  half  hour." 

On  his  arrival  he  noticed  a  marked  change  for  the  worse. 
The  little  strength  the  invalid  had  was  fast  ebbing  away, 
the  heart  was  weak.  He  decided  upon  giving  a  stimulant. 
He  then  sat  down  to  await  the  effect.  After  a  while  a  slight 
improvement  was  perceptible,  and  after  waiting  at  the 
bedside  for  over  two  hours  he  took  his  leave,  telling  Miss 
Brown  he  had  some  calls  to  make,  but  would  be  back  by 
two  p.  M.  at  the  latest  and  would  bring  Professor  Volny 
with  him. 


452  reouiescat  in  pace 

Chapter  XL\^I 
reouiescat  ix  pace. 

Professor  A'oliiy  on  his  arrival  at  the  bedside  of  the  sick 
woman  gazed  at  her  for  a  few  moments.  He  then  looked 
over  at  Miss  Brown,  lowered  his  eyebrows  and  shook  his 
head.  Turning  to  Dr.  Fitzgerald,  he  said,  "Doctor,  your 
patient  is  very  low." 

The  two  physicians  then  retired  to  the  farther  end  of 
the  room  for  consultation,  which  was  held  in  a  very  low 
tone. 

"You  see,  professor,  the  relationship  between  Mrs.  Great 
and  her  husband  for  the  past  few^  years  has  not  been  what 
it  ought  to  be."  Fitzgerald  detailed  the  matter  in  full,  being 
conversant  with  the  alderman's  escapades  and  his  associa- 
tion with  Florence  Burdett,  "whom  he  is  probably  away 
with  now,"  continued  the  doctor. 

"I  see,"  said  Volny.  "That  is  likely  to  aggravate  the 
case." 

"This  woman  has  been  brooding  over  her  wrongs  and 
even  in  her  delirium  she  is  rehearsing  them.  We  must  try 
to  arouse  her." 

The  professor  at  once  administered  a  powder,  and  after 
a  few  moments'  waiting  he  applied  something  which  had 
a  strong  narcotic  effect  to  the  nostrils.  Mrs.  Great  awoke 
with  a  start.  Her  first  words  on  awakening  were,  "Where 
is  he?  Has  he  come?  Tell  him  I  want  to  see  him.  I  am 
sure  if  he  knew  my  sufifering,  he  would  come  back  to  me. 
Even  if  he  doesn't  love  me  any  more,  he  knows  I  have 
always  loved  him  and  will  forgive  him." 

She  seemed  then  to  realize  that  she  was  amongst  stran- 
gers and  fell  back,  her  head  resting  on  the  pillow. 

"Calm  yourself,  my  dear  madam,"  said  the  doctor,  as 
Miss  Brown  at  the  other  side  of  the  bed  smoothed  the 
pillow  and  bed  clothes  that  had  been  disarranged  in  Mrs. 
Great's  frenzy. 


REQUIESCAT    IN    PACE  453 

"Come,  now,  don't  excite  yourself,  you  know  you  are 
among-st  friends." 

"Let  them  bring  me  back  my  husband.  Why  don't  they 
go  for  him,  and  tell  him  how  sick  I  am?  I  am  sure  he 
would  come,  if  he  only  knew  how  poorly  I  am,  and  how 
much  I  long  to  have  him  with  me,  that  I  might  tell  him 
I  will  forgive  the  past,  if  he  will  only  love  me  a  little  and 
be  kind  to  me.     I  know  I  will  not  trouble  him  long." 

Miss  Brown  bent  over  the  unhappy  woman.  "Come, 
now,  lie  still,  Mrs.  Great,  in  a  little  time  all  will  be  well ; 
don't  exhaust  yourself." 

The  sick  woman  gave  a  blank  stare  in  the  direction  of 
the  speaker — she  seemed  to  have  forgotten  who  she  was. 

Miss  Brown  proceeded  to  smooth  the  pillows  and  place 
the  patients'  weary  head  upon  them. 

Professor  Volny  took  Fitzgerald  toward  the  window. 
"Now.  doctor,  this  woman's  husband  will  have  to  be 
brought  to  her.    Where  is  he?" 

"He  has  been  away  some  weeks  on  a  vacation." 

"Was  she  sick  when  he  left?" 

"Yes,  she  had  been  failing  for  some  time.  I  told  him 
before  he  left  that  his  wife  was  a  very  sick  woman.  He 
merely  told  me  to  attend  to  her." 

"He  must  be  telegraphed  for,  wherever  he  is,  and  told  to 
hurry  back.     If  he  doesn't  arrive  soon,  I  fear  for  the  worst." 

"I  don't  know  where  he  is.  Wait  a  minute  while  I  in- 
quire of  Mary.  She  is  a  confidant  about  the  house,  and  if 
any  one  knows,  she  does." 

Mary  did  not  know  where  he  was.  "Nor  do  I  believe 
any  one  in  the  house  knows."  She  was  sure  her  dear  mis- 
tress didn't.  He  never  let  them  know  when  or  where  he 
was  going. 

The  coachman  was  questioned.  He  knew  nothing.  He 
didn't  drive  him  to  the  depot  on  his  last  leaving.  The  doc- 
tor, thinking  that  the  coachman  might  be  able  to  put  him 
on  the  track  if  he  was  only  willing,  said,  "This  is  a  matter 
of  life  and  death.  You  know  how  sick  your  mistress  is, 
and  her  condition  is  sadly  aggravated  on  account  of  the 


454  REQUIESCAT    IN    PACE 

absence  of  her  husband ;  so  if  you  can  suggest  any  place 
where  we  might  get  information  of  his  whereabouts,  you 
should  do  it." 

"I  assure  you,  doctor,  if  I  had  the  information  you  should 
have  it.  My  sympathy  is  entirely  with  the  mistress.  I 
tell  you  where  you  might  try."  He  then  gave  the  doctor 
the  address  of  a  palatial  South  Side  residence. 

After  communicating  his  information  to  Volny,  who  was 
about  to  leave,  and  after  giving  instructions  to  Miss  Brown, 
he  set  out  on  his  mission. 

Arriving  at  the  establishment  he  rang  the  bell.  A  middle- 
aged  woman  responded.  She  didn't  invite  him  in,  so  the 
conversation  took  place  on  the  doorstep. 

"Is  the  lady  of  the  house  at  home?" 

"No,  sir;  she's  out  of  the  city." 

"Do  you  know  when  she's  likely  to  be  back?" 

"We  expect  her  every  day." 

The  doctor,  who  was  assuming  the  role  of  amateur  de- 
tective, tried  to  induce  the  woman  to  enter  into  conversa- 
tion. "I  suppose  she  is  spending  the  summer  at  some 
watering-place  ?" 

"I  don't  know  where  she  is;  she  didn't  tell  me  where 
she  was  going  when  she  left." 

"Probably  the  coachman  who  took  her  to  the  depot 
might  know?" 

"You  seem  to  be  very  inquisitive  for  information  as  to 
Mrs.  Burdett's  whereabouts.  You'll  have  to  inquire  of 
herself  when  she  gets  home." 

"Do  you  know — did  any  one  accompany  her  on  the  trip?" 

"I  don't  see  how  that  can  concern  you.  We're  not  here 
to  pry  into  Mrs.  Burdett's  business." 

The  doctor,  seeing  he  was  treading  on  dangerous  ground, 
replied,  "I  hope,  madam,  you  won't  take  offense.  I  am 
here  in  the  interest  of  some  people  known  to  Mrs.  Burdett, 
and  it  is  of  the  greatest  importance  that  I  should  be  in  a 
position  to  communicate  with  her  right  away.  I  am  even 
willing  to  pay  for  such  information  as  I  require,  if  you  can 
tell  me  who  can  furnish  it." 


REQUIESCAT   IN    PACE  455 

"There  is  no  one  here  that  can  tell  you  anything  about 
it,  so  there's  no  use  you  wasting  my  time  and  your  own." 
With  this  she  closed  the  door  in  the  doctor's  face. 

There  is  a  saying,  "Tell  your  troubles  to  a  policeman." 
As  there  was  no  policeman  around,  he  stood  thinking  what 
he  should  do  next.  Noticing  a  saloon  in  the  middle  of  the 
next  block,  he  felt  he  required  a  stimulant  and  time  to 
think.  On  entering  the  saloon,  which  was  a  very  stylish 
place,  there  was  no  one  in  but  the  barkeeper. 

"Give  me  a  whiskey  sour."  While  the  barkeeper  was 
mixing  the  drink,  he  continued,  "You  seem  pretty  quiet 
around  here." 

"Yes,  it  always  is  this  time  of  day ;  you  see,  the  most  of 
our  business  is  at  night,  between  six  p.  m.  and  three  a.  m." 

"Will  you  join  me?" 

"I  don't  mind  if  I  do.    I'll  take  a  little  whiskey." 

"This  is  a  pretty  nice  neighborhood  around  here.  I  sup- 
pose you  are  pretty  well  acquainted?" 

"Yes,  I  have  been  here  for  some  time." 

"Give  me  a  cigar."  The  barkeeper  placed  a  couple  of 
boxes  on  the  counter.  "Take  one  yourself."  The  bar- 
keeper placed  one  in  his  vest  pocket  with  the  remark  he 
would  smoke  it  later.  The  doctor  whik  lighting  his  cigar, 
casually  remarked,  "Who  lives  in  the  big  house  on  the 
corner?"  pointing  in  the  direction. 

"A  woman  by  the  name  of  Burdett,  but  she's  away  now." 

"Probably  spending  the  summer  at  some  watering  place?" 

"Likely;  she  can  go  where  she  pleases.  She  has  a  bloke 
on  her  staff  that  has  the  price — he's  a  pretty  shrewd  fellow, 
but  she  has  him  dead  easy." 

"Probably  they  have  a  summer  home." 

"I  don't  think  so.  I  understand  they  generally  cross  the 
big  pond.    She  likes  to  travel  on  water." 

"So  she  doesn't  let  the  neighbors  know  where  she  is  while 
she's  away?" 

"She  has  no  neighbors." 

"Well,  they  trade  with  the  people  around  here,  don't 
they?" 


456  REOUIESCAT    IN    PACE 

"Not  a  dollar's  worth.  Everything  furnished  that  estab- 
lishment comes  direct  from  some  of  the  big  houses.  Little 
Tommy  sees  that  that  place  is  well  provided  for — nothing's 
too  good  for  them — lobster  and  champagne  for  a  lunch  be- 
tween meals.  I  never  was  in  the  house,  but  I  hear  it's 
about  the  best  there  is  when  you're  on  the  inside." 

The  doctor  was  satisfied  that  while  the  barkeeper  was 
Avilling  to  gossip,  he  had  not  the  information  desired,  so 
after  taking  one  on  the  dispenser  of  drinks  and  being  told 
to  call  again,  he  took  his  departure.  Remembering  a  lieu- 
tenant of  police  with  whom  he  was  acquainted,  he  decided 
to  consult  him.  After  telling  his  story  and  quoting  Pro- 
fessor Volny's  opinion  as  to  the  necessity  of  Great's  return, 
the  lieutenant  seemed  much  impressed. 

"Doct'^r,  I  will  put  all  the  machinery  at  my  disposal  to 
work  immediately." 

Fitzgerald,  feeling  that  he  had  done  all  in  his  power, 
returned  to  where  his  patient  lay. 

Father  Nolan  was  anxiously  awaiting  his  coming,  Mary 
had  already  informed  his  reverence  of  the  doctor's  mission. 

"Well,  what  did  you  find  out?"  inquired  his  reverence, 
eagerly. 

Fitzgerald  informed  the  priest  of  his  search  and  failure 
and  how  he  had  turned  the  entire  matter  over  to  the  lieu- 
tenant. 

"I  don't  see  what  more  you  can  do,"  said  the  priest. 

Dr.  Fitzgerald,  on  entering  the  sick  room,  made  inquiry 
of  Miss  Brown  as  to  what  had  transpired  during  his  ab- 
sence. She  told  him  that  there  had  been  little  change  since 
his  leaving.  Mrs.  Great  had  occasional  spells  of  delirium, 
when  she  looked  around  as  if  she  hoped  to  see  some  one  in 
particular.  Not  seeing  those  she  expected,  she  relapsed 
back  in  a  seeming  unconsciousness  of  what  was  going  on 
around  her. 

"Has  she  been  able  to  take  any  nourishment?" 

"Very  little;  she  seems  to  have  difificulty  in  swallowing. 
I'm  afraid  we  are  going  to  have  a  bad  night  with  her, 
doctor." 


REOUTESCAT    IN    PACE  457 

The  doctor  nodded  his  head  in  assent.  "I  think  I  had 
better  tell  Father  Nolan  our  opinion,  he  is  still  downstairs. 
In  the  meantime  I  will  go  around  to  my  office,  see  if  there 
is  an}^  matter  requiring  my  attention  and  then  come  back, 
and  spend  the  night  watching  with  you." 

On  his  way  out  he  notified  the  priest  as  to  his  forebodings. 

"It  is  what  I  expected,  I  had  little  hopes  from  the  time 
I  saw  her  yesterday,  but  God's  will  be  done.  If  the  poor 
woman  has  to  go,  she  only  leaves  what  has  been  to  her 
a  world  of  grief  and  disappointments.  In  your  absence, 
doctor,  I  will  go  to  her  room  and  await  the  first  sign  of 
consciousness,  to  fortify  her  with  the  last  rites  of  the  church 
of  which  she  was  so  devout  a  member." 

Miss  Brown  opened  the  door  for  his  reverence,  she  felt 
that  his  service  was  well  timed.  Father  Nolan  knelt  by 
the  side  of  the  bed  and  said  a  fervent  prayer  for  the  soul 
of  her  who  had  ever  been  faithful  to  her  God,  her  church, 
her  husband,  and  her  home.  Rising,  he  took  his  seat  by 
the  side  of  the  bed  to  await  an  opportunity.  After  a  time 
he  heard  a  long-drawn  sigh.  He  arose  and  bending  over, 
took  between  his  palms  the  hand  of  the  dying  woman.  She 
opened  her  eyes,  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Great,  do  you  know  me?" 

She  answered,  in  a  tone  scarcely  audible,  "Yes,  father, 
I  do." 

"You  have  been  very  sick,  and  I,  your  father  and  con- 
fessor, must  see  that  I  do  my  duty.  God  is  good  and  may 
soon  restore  you  to  health.  If  so,  'tis  well,  but  as  the 
prophet  truly  said.  'In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death.' 
and  you  that  never  shirked  a  duty,  but  was  ever  ready, 
must  be  prepared  at  all  times.  If  you  have  anything  you 
would  wish  to  say  to  me,  now  is  the  fitting  time." 

She  replied,  "Reverend  father,  T  wish  to  die.  if  the  Lord 
Avills  it  so,  at  peace  with  all  the  world.  I  bear  no  malice 
to  any  one.  If  I  have  been  wronged,  I  pray  that  God  may 
forgive  them,  and  not  punish  them  on  mv  account.  I  should 
ha\  e  liked  to  tell  my  unfortunate  husband  with  my  own 
lips  how  I  forgive  him  any  wrong  he  has  ever  done  me, 


458  REQUIESCAT    IN    PACE 

and  how  my  prayers  even  in  time  of  seeming  anger  had 
been  offered  up  in  his  behalf.  Should  I  be  denied  the  op- 
portunity to  tell  himself,  then,  father,  I  wish  you  to  tell 
him ;  and  say,  further,  if  beyond  the  grave  we  may  inter- 
cede for  one  another,  I  shall  throw  myself  at  the  throne 
of  mercy  and  beg  for  his  redemption." 

The  priest  then  gave  her  the  eucharist  and  extreme  unc- 
tion, the  last  rites  of  the  Catholic  church.  He  laid  his  hand 
gently  smoothing  the  hair  from  her  forehead,  and  lifting 
his  voice  to  heaven,  committed  her  soul  to  God.  A  smile 
illumined  her  face,  she  closed  her  eyes  in  that  sweet  peace 
which  is  only  known  to  those  who  are  strong  in  the  faith. 

The  priest  had  been  gone  but  a  few  moments  when  the 
doctor  arrived.  Miss  Brown  told  him  that  his  reverence 
had  prepared  her  for  death.  It  was  well.  It  was  then  dusk. 
He  took  a  lamp  and  looked  at  the  face  of  the  sick  woman, 
he  noticed  the  look  of  calm  upon  her  sweet  countenance. 
He  had  noticed  the  same  look  on  others,  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances, and  knew  well  what  it  meant.  About  eleven 
p.  m.  Mary  knocked  at  the  door  and  said  that  a  police 
officer  was  down  in  the  parlor  and  wanted  to  see  Dr.  Fitz- 
gerald. 

"Lieutenant,  what  success?" 

"None  at  all,  doctor.  I  have  had  one  of  my  men  visit 
a  number  of  places  where  he  frequents  when  in  the  city. 
At  none  of  them  could  he  get  any  information.  Some  sug- 
gested that  he  may  be  in  Colorado,  so  we  telegraphed  to 
the  Brown  Palace  where  he  stays  while  there,  also  to  Colo- 
rado Springs,  but  received  no  reply.  We  also  wired  to 
Atlantic  City  and  New  York,  with  similar  results ;  had  not 
been  at  either  place  this  season." 

"Lieutenant,  did  you  try  to  find  out  anything  at  the 
avenue  resort?" 

"Yes,  I  had  a  man  go  over  there ;  he  put  the  occupants 
under  a  very  uncivil  service  examination,  and  his  report 
is  that  he  is  confident  they  don't  know  anything  about  where 
he  is.  In  my  opinion  he  must  have  gone  on  a  visit  to  the 
old  country.    If  so,  he  is  out  of  our  reach.    I  may,  however, 


REQUIESCAT    IN    PACE  459 

try  a  little  further  in  the  morning.     How  is  your  patient?" 

"She  is  very  low.  I  am  afraid  she  will  hardly  last  through 
the  night.  You  see,  she  is  run  down  with  grief.  It  is  a 
case  of  heart  disease,  as  much  as  anything.  The  fall  she 
had  the  other  day,  while  only  doing  her  slight  injury, 
hastened  the  collapse,  which  was  coming  anyhow.  You 
know  something  of  the  family  ghost.     I  need  not  tell  you." 

"Indeed,  you  needn't.     It's  public  property.     Is  it  not  a 

wonder  what  d d  fools  some  men  are?     To  men  who, 

like  myself,  know  the  woman  in  the  case,  it's  a  mystery ; 
they  even  go  so  far  as  to  say  he's  afraid  of  her." 

"Well,  you  know,  lieutenant,  we  read  in  Holy  Writ  that 
both  David  and  Solom.on  were  fooled  with  the  women,  and 
even  Samson  had  his  Delilah  who,  as  the  story  goes,  sheared 
him  of  his  locks  and  then  turned  him  over  to  the  Philistines. 
I  suppose  the  South  Side  woman  shears  Tommy  of  his 
rocks.     I  understand  she  has  diamonds  to  burn." 

"Why,  doctor,  when  she  is  in  full  regalia  she's  like  so 
many  flashlights." 

"If  you  should  hear  anything  about  the  alderman,  let  us 
know  immediately ;  but  I'm  afraid  it  will  come  too  late  to 
do  any  good." 

The  lieutenant  took  his  dqjarture,  promising  to  telephone 
promptl}^  on  his  hearing  anything  reliable  as  to  the  where- 
abouts of  the  alderman. 

Since  the  arrival  of  Miss  Brown,  Mar}^  had  little  oppor- 
tunity to  visit  the  sick  room.  Miss  Brown  diplomatically 
kept  her  out  by  finding  her  something  to  do,  preparing 
things  that  were  never  required,  and  arranging  clothing 
that  was  never  used,  and  telling  her  that  her  mistress  was 
having  a  quiet  sleep  and  she  could  not  let  her  be  disturbed 
for  the  world.  Mary  never  complained,  believing  matters 
were  going  on  satisfactorily.  This  subterfuge  was  kept  up 
until  Father  Nolan  was  taking  his  departure.  Mary  ran 
to  let  him  out,  expecting  good  news.  Father  Nolan  was 
too  sad  at  heart  to  talk  to  her,  and  in  answer  to  her  inquiry, 
gave  her  a  look  that  spoke  volumes.  Mary,  as  soon  as  he 
was  gone,  went  to  the  parlor    and    cried    bitterly.     Miss 


460  REQUIESCAT    IN    PACE 

Brown  hearing  hei,  closed  the  sick  room  door,  and  going 
downstairs,  told  her  the  truth.  "We  may  expect  the  worst, 
Mary."  Miss  Brown  knew  it  was  futile  to  attempt  to  dam 
the  fount  in  that  tender  heart  until  it  was  spent.  ''Mary, 
you  will  have  to  brace  up.  Dr.  Fitzgerald  is  going  to  stay 
all  night.  You  will  have  to  prepare  something  for  him  to 
eat.  It  is  now  near  twelve  o'clock,  get  it  ready,  and  as  soon 
as  you  can  compose  yourself  come  and  sit  in  the  room  with 
us.  Come,  now,  be  a  good  girl  and  dry  your  eyes.  'While 
there's  life,  there's  hope.'  " 

Mary  promised  she  would  do  her  best,  and  at  once  set 
about  preparing  refreshments  for  the  doctor  and  Miss 
Brown.  She  herself  could  not  taste  a  morsel,  her  heart  was 
too  full  of  grief.  After  they  had  the  lunch  Mary  had  pre- 
pared for  them,  the  doctor  said,  "Now,  Mary,  you  will  have 
to  be  calm."  On  her  saying  she  would,  they  all  repaired 
to  the  sick  room.  About  one  a.  m.  a  marked  change  for  the 
worse  was  noticed,  the  patient's  breathing  became  harder 
and  more  irregular,  the  pulse  was  also  fainter.  Dr.  Fitz- 
gerald loosened  Mrs.  Great's  nightgown  over  her  breast  and, 
placing  his  hand  on  her  heart,  resolved  to  apply  an  injec- 
tion of  salt,  as  a  last  remedy.  He  instructed  Miss  Brown  to 
prepare  the  solution.  On  it  being  ready  he  hung  the  bag 
containing  it  at  an  elevation,  opened  the  vein  and  applied 
it.  In  a  short  time  there  was  a  partial  restoration,  the  pulse 
became  quicker,  the  breathing  somewhat  easier.  The 
patient,  however,  got  more  feverish  and  restless  under  this 
heroic  treatment.  Dr.  Fitzgerald  took  his  seat  to  await 
results.-  About  two-thirty  the  patient  showed  signs  of 
being  delirious.  On  one  occasion  she  awoke  in  a  fright 
and  screamed  out  as  well  as  her  feeble  condition  would 
allow,  "Save  him  !  Save  him  !  She's  murdering  him.  Help  ! 
Help !" 

The  doctor  got  hold  of  her  in  his  arms,  it  seemed  as 
if  she  would  jump  out  of  bed.  Miss  Brown  had  taken  her 
place  at  the  other  side  of  the  bed  and  commenced  to  soothe 
her.  Mary  was  paralyzed  with  fear.  She  stood  stiff  on  the 
floor  as  did  Lot's  wife  after  she  had  been  turned  into  a 


REQUIESCAT    IN    PACE  461 

pillar  of  salt.  She  could  neither  cry  nor  move.  Her  eyes 
rolled  in  her  head,  her  jaws  fell,  she  felt  a  chill  coming 
over  her.  The  paroxysm  over,  Mrs.  Great  fell  back  ex- 
hausted on  her  pillow.  Mary  was  found  to  be  in  a  swoon. 
The  doctor  picked  her  up  and  conveyed  her  to  an  adjoining 
room,  where  she  presently  recovered  sufficiently  to  let  her 
anguish  be  relieved  with  a  copious  flow  of  tears.  She  for 
the  first  time  felt  her  incompetency  to  take  proper  care  of 
her  mistress  and  whatever  jealousy  or  ill-feeling  she  had 
for  Miss  Brown  was  gone  from  her  heart  and  mind. 

The  delirium  had  consumed  nearly  all  the  energy  that 
remained  in  the  poor  frame  of  the  sick  woman.  She  rap- 
idly declined  and  about  three  a.  m.  she  showed  a  sign  of 
returning  consciousness.  Her  gaze  was  steady  toward  the 
ceiling,  at  times  a  pleasing  smile  illuminated  her  now 
ghastly  countenance,  her  lips  moved,  but  gave  forth  no 
sound.  She  seemed  to  gaze  afar  ofif  on  something  of  beauty. 
Dr.  Fitzgerald  and  Miss  Brown  exchanged  significant 
glances.  Suddenly,  as  if  with  little  effort,  the  thin,  emaci- 
ated frame  gathered  itself  up  until  it  rested  on  its  elbows, 
and,  looking  into  space,  a  glow  of  supreme  happiness  came 
over  her  face.  'T  come,  my  Jesus,  I  come.  Thou  art  my 
spouse,  my  hope,  who  will  never  desert  me." 

The  doctor  seized  the  cross  which  hung  at  the  head  of 
the  bed,  placed  it  to  her  lips,  but  she  failed  to  notice  it — 
"If  I  have  been  faithful" — at  the  conclusion  of  the  last 
word  she  fell  back  on  her  pillow,  a  corpse. 


The  body  of  Mrs.  Great  lay  in  state  in  the  parlor,  the 
magnificent  casket  banked  with  flowers  that  nearly  reached 
to  the  ceiling,  a  large  gilt  cross  with  the  figure  of  the  Re- 
deemer standing  at  the  head  of  the  coffin,  while  behind 
it  was  a  massive  candelabra  with  candles  lighted,  with 
other  candles  arranged  down  each  side  of  the  coffin. 

The  face  of  the  corpse,  like  marble,  was  as  composed  as 
if  in  sleep. 

There  was  room  for  but  few  chairs  in  the  spacious  par- 


462  REQUIESCAT    IN    PACE 

lor  and  on  those  sat  some  ladies  and  a  number  of  sisters, 
who  had  remained  in  constant  vigil  since  her  death.  The 
back  parlor  was  crowded  with  women,  the  kitchen  and 
office  were  occupied  with  men  smoking  and  chatting.  On 
the  lawn  back  of  the  house  seats  had  been  provided  and 
quite  a  number  were  seated  there.  Being  the  first  week  in 
September  and  the  weather  pleasant,  there  had  been  a  con- 
stant stream  of  visitors  during  the  entire  day.  On  this, 
the  second  night  she  had  lain  in  state,  there  was  a  jam; 
every  room  on  the  ground  floor  was  full  to  suffocation, 
and  the  floral  pieces  continued  to  come,  sent  by  friends  or 
societies  of  which  she  was  a  patron  or  member. 

Numbers  of  the  people  who  came  to  view  the  remains 
knelt  in  prayer,  rising,  gave  a  look  at  the  corpse,  and 
silently  turned  away  to  make  room  for  others.  On  each 
side  of  the  front  entrance  to  the  house  there  was  a  group 
of  men,  in  one  her  banker,  her  doctor  and  a  number  of 
old  acquaintances,  principally  men  occupying  important 
places  in  commercial  life. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  gate,  a  few  feet  distant,  stood 
Hooligan,  Hart,  Rock,  Red-nosed  Scarry,  the  Frog,  a  few 
groggery-keepers,  and  a  few  small-bore  politicians.  Hooli- 
gan was  giving  his  views  as  to  the  merits  of  the  respective 
candidates  for  the  office  of  State's  Attorney,  which  office 
was  to  be  filled  at  the  coming  election.  He  was  denouncing 
one  of  the  candidates  as  a  "skate"  that  no  Democrat  should 
vote  for.  "Why,"  said  he  with  an  air  of  superior  knowl- 
edge, "if  that  fellow  was  elected  the  boss  needn't  go  across 
Clark  street  bridge."  The  other  candidate  seemed  to  meet 
his  approval.  "He  stands  for  personal  liberty,  the  right  of 
a  man  to  conduct  his  business  without  undue  interference." 

"An  open  town  is  what  we  want,"  remarked  a  listener 
in  the  same  line  of  business  as  Hooligan.  "It's  good  for 
business." 

"Why,"  chimed  in  another,  "sure,  there's  more  drinking 
in  the  prohibition  districts  than  there  is  where  the  saloons 
are  open." 

"If  that's  the  case,"  remarked  Mort,  who  had  just  come 


REQUIESCAT    IN    PACE  463 

up,  accompanied  by  Bert  and  Pliipps,  "it's  a  wonder  to 
me  that  the  distillers  and  brewers  don't  go  in  for  prohibi- 
tion;  it  would  increase  their  business." 

Hooligan  looked  reprovingly  at  him. 

"And  there's  the  gambling,"  Hooligan  continued.  "If 
a  man  wants  to  gamble,  that's  his  business."  He  had  hardly 
concluded  this  remark  when  the  sound  of  an  approaching 
conveyance  became  audible  and  all  eyes  turned  in  the  direc- 
tion whence  a  hack  was  seen  approaching.  Arriving  in 
front  of  the  gate,  the  hackman  pulled  up  his  horses,  a  head 
protruded  from  the  door,  on  whose  countenance  there  was 
a  look  of  amazement.  On  sight  of  the  face  of  Hooligan, 
the  Frog,  and  some  others  who  ran  forward,  Hooligan 
opened  the  door,  and  Great  walked  out. 

"What  is  this?"  he  said,  eyeing  the  group. 

"The  ould  woman's  dead,"  replied  Hooligan. 

"My  God!"  exclaimed  the  alderman,  as  he  placed  his 
hands  to  his  forehead,  a  deathly  pallor  coming  over  his 
face.  He  staggered  back  and  would  probably  have  fallen 
had  the  coach  not  been  there.  There  was  silence  for  a 
moment,  his  gang  of  supporters  was  speechless.  The  group 
of  respectable  men  never  left  their  places.  They  had 
neither  welcome  nor  sympathy  for  him  in  his  distress. 

After  somewhat  recovering  his  composure,  he  said,  "Some 
of  5^ou  pay  the  cabman  for  me."  He  went  up  the  steps 
of  the  house  he  had  done  so  much  to  desolate ;  the  parlor 
door  was  open,  he  glanced  in  as  he  passed,  and  saw  the 
cross,  the  flowers,  and  the  cofifin  in  which  he  knew  the  re- 
mains of  her  who  had  given  him  his  first  start  in  life  and 
whom  he  had  pledged,  before  God's  high  altar,  to  love, 
cherish,  and  protect,  now  lay  dead  in  solemn  grandeur. 
He  dared  not  go  in.  Faint  and  sick  at  heart  he  climbed 
the  stairs  leading  to  the  second  floor  and  entered  the  room 
which  he  generally  occupied  when  at  home.  Going  for- 
ward to  the  large  lounging  chair  he  dropped  into  it  and 
placed  his  head  between  his  hands.  Conscience  had  made 
a  coward  of  him ;  he  was  incapable  of  thinking  how  he 
would  face  the  coming  ordeal. 


464  REMORSE  AND  RETRIBUTION 

Chapter  XL VII 

REMORSE  AND   RETRIBUTION. 

Florence  Burdett  on  arriving  home,  heard  of  the  death 
of  Mrs.  Great.     She  reproached  herself  bitterly. 

"It  would  seem  as  if  I  was  a  curse  to  all  who  knew  me. 
I  am  a  coward,  or  I  would  end  this  whole  affair.  What 
have  I  to  live  for?" 

She  thought  of  the  alderman's  revolver  that  still  lay  in 
her  traveling  case.  Her  maid  wished  to  open  it  the  day 
after  her  arrival,  to  arrange  her  wardrobe  and  put  things  in 
their  proper  place. 

"No,  leave  it  there,  I  will  attend  to  it  myself  when  I 
have  time.  Fill  that  decanter  for  me."  Her  maid  looked 
at  her  in  wonder,  and  at  the  first  opportunity  whispered 
to  the  housekeeper,  that  "there  was  something  wrong  with 
the  mistress." 

Genevieve  Brown,  who  had  not  seen  her  for  years,  but 
had  learned  of  her  antecedents  and  where  she  resided  dur- 
ing her  attendance  on  the  alderman's  wife,  called  upon  her. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Miss  Brown.  So  you're  a  nurse 
now?" 

"Yes,  after  I  left  the  Cleveland  store  I  chose  that  occupa- 
tion." 

"I  am  glad;  you  have  done  well,  I  hope?  You  are  still 
single?" 

"Yes,  people  in  my  profession  seldom  marry.  We  seem 
to  have  no  time." 

"Take  my  advice,  girl,  trust  no  man.     They're  all  bad." 

"You  seem  sick,  Florence." 

"Yes,  in  body  and  in  mind ;  but  not  as  sick  as  I'd  wish 
to  be." 

"Don't  talk  that  way,  you  are  still  young  and  the  future's 
before  you." 

"I  have  no  future.     Reach  me  a  drink  from  that  bottle." 

"You  mustn't  give  way  to  drink,  Florence,  that  will  only- 
make  you  worse." 


REMORSE  AND  RETRIBUTION  465 

"It  can't  be  worse." 

"Florence,  I  came  to  talk  to  you  about  a  matter,  but  I 
am  afra:id   to  mention   it." 

"Why  should  you  fear,  girl,  go  on ;  anything  you  may 
say  has  no  terror  for  me." 

"Well,  do  you  know  I  nursed  Mrs.  Great  during  her  last 
illness?" 

"You  did?    Then  tell  me  how  she  died." 

"She  died  like  the  saint  she  was,  forgiving  everybody." 

"Did  she  forgive  him?" 

"Yes,  and  you,  too." 

"Then  she  was  a  saint;  would  that  I  had  died  in  her 
place." 

"Yes,  I  heard  her  tell  Father  Nolan  that  she  forgave  all 
who  ever  wronged  her ;  she  even  prayed  for  them.  I  have 
had  some  experience  in  the  death  chamber,  but  never  any- 
thing like  the  few  days  I  attended  her.  It  tried  my  nerves. 
You  see,  she  constantly  mourned  the  absence  of  her  hus- 
band; that  was  what  made  her  case  more  serious." 

"Were  you  there  when  he  returned?" 

"Yes,  I  happened  to  be  there  that  night.  I  didn't  see 
him,  but  they  say  he  was  frantic." 

"The  hypocrit !  Genevieve,  he's  a  bad  man.  He  has 
been  my  undoing,  he  wronged  her,  as  he  wronged  me ; 
but  now  she's  gone,  he'll  do  right  by  me  or  I'll  kill  him. 
Give  me  another  drink." 

"No,  I  positively  refuse  to  give  you  any  more.  You  must 
compose  yourself.  I  will  come  and  see  you  again  in  a  few 
days." 

Three  weeks  passed  and  the  alderman  had  not  showed 
up  at  the  house  on  the  avenue.  Florence  heard  he  had  been 
drinking  heavily.  He  had  even  neglected  his  public  duties, 
preferring  to  spend  his  time  with  the  Hooligans,  who  were 
still  loyal  to  him.  His  respectable  acquaintances  had  cut 
him  entirely. 


It  was  past  midnight,  the  lady  of  the  house  on  the  avenue 


466  REMORSE  AND  RETRIBUTION 

was  reclining-  on  a  couch.  She  rang  the  bell  that  stood 
convenient,  her  maid  responded.  "Mix  me  a  drink  of  that 
absinthe." 

From  the  way  the  girl  went  about  it,  it  was  apparent 
she  had  experience  in  making  up  the  compound,  which  is 
a  favorite  drink  with  a  class  of  women,  who,  through  ex- 
citement or  physical  exhaustion,  feel  they  require  a  special 
stimulant.  When  the  drink  was  prepared,  she  handed  it 
to  her  mistress,  who  drained  the  glass  to  the  last  drop. 
"Have  all  the  people  in  the  house  retired  for  the  night?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Well,  see  that  the  decanter  is  full  and  then  go  to  bed." 

The  maid  left  and  returned  with  the  decanter. 

"Give  me  a  little  of  that  brandy.  Now  go  to  your  room, 
but  remember  that  I  may  want  you  at  any  moment.  Listen. 
Is  that  a  footfall  I  hear  on  the  front  steps?"  Both  mistress 
and  maid  listened  for  a  few  moments,  but  all  was  still. 

The  lady  showed  her  impatience  and  disappointment, 
then  motioned  her  maid  to  retire,  which  she  was  only  too 
anxious  to  do,  feeling  that  the  mistress  of  the  house  was 
not  in  the  humor  to  be  sociable  with  anyone. 

Being  in  her  night  clothes,  though  the  room  was  warm 
and  comfortable,  Florence  imagined  it  was  chilly ;  possibly 
the  result  of  her  excited  condition  or  from  the  effects  of 
the  liquor  she  had  been  drinking.  She  reached  for  her  shawl 
and  placing"  it  around  her  shoulders,  lay  down  on  the  lounge. 

The  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  struck  the  hour  of  two, 
when,  ere  its  vibrations  had  ceased,  she  bounded  from  the 
lounge  and  going  to  the  sideboard,  helped  herself  to  a  glass 
of  brandy,  then,  looking  earnestly  in  the  mirror,  muttered 
to  herself,  "So  he  is  going  to  shake  me,  is  he?  Well,  let 
him  try  it." 

Just  at  that  moment  a  sudden  thought  seemed  to  strike 
her.  She  looked  down  at  her  traveling  case  that  had  re- 
mained unopened  since  her  return.  She  sought  the  key 
and  opened  it.  She  pulled  out  some  of  the  clothing,  throw- 
ing them  on  the  floor ;  at  last  she  seemed  to  have  found  the 
object  of  her  search — it  was  a  small  parcel.    She  unwrapped 


REMORSE  AND  RETRIBUTION  467 

it  in  haste,  and  disclosed  a  revoher.  It  was  a  formidable 
weapon,  not  the  kind  usually  supposed  to  be  in  the  posses- 
sion of  ladies,  but  one  of  the  most  effective  character,  such 
as  any  professional  hold-up  man  or  burglar  might  fairly  pin 
his  faith  to. 

She  eyed  it  for  a  moment,  then  laid  it  down  on  the  side- 
board behind  the  decanter,  threw  the  cloth  over  it,  and 
again  took  her  place  on  the  lounge.  Another  hour  had 
nearly  passed  when  footsteps  could  be  heard  on  the  outside ; 
they  stopped  in  front  of  the  house — she  listened  intently. 
The  sound  of  a  key  being  inserted  in  the  lock  of  the  front 
door  made  her  jump  from  the  lounge.  Approaching  the 
sideboard  she  filled  herself  a  glass  of  brandy  which  she 
drank  at  a  gulp,  then  letting  the  shawl  down  from  her 
shoulders,  stood  facing  the  room  door  in  her  nightrobe, 
her  hair  hanging  loosely  over  her  shoulders. 

Step  by  step  the  visitor  climbed  the  stairs.  Florence 
felt  no  alarm,  she  knew  full  well  who  it  was  coming. 

As  the  climber  reached  the  landing,  two  steps  brought 
him  to  the  door,  which  he  pushed  open  and  beheld  the 
woman  standing  in  the  center  of  the  room.  The  visitor, 
from  some  unaccountable  reason,  looked  aghast  at  the  fig- 
ure, while  a  tremor  ran  through  his  frame.  He  had  no 
sooner  stepped  into  the  room  than  the  woman  said,  "So 
you  have  come  at  last,  have  you?  How  good  of  you!  I 
suppose  you  have  been  shedding  tears  for  the  woman  who 
is  gone,  eh?  You  are  sorry  now — why  didn't  you  think  of 
this  while  she  was  living?" 

With  this,  Great — for  he  it  was — laid  his  hat  on  the  side- 
board and  told  her  to  shut  up. 

"No!"  she  exclaimed,  "I  will  not  shut  up,  damn  you!  I 
have  stayed  up  nights  waiting  for  you,  so  that  we  might 
have  an  understanding;  you  have  not  been  here  for  three 
weeks,  and  I  want  to  know  what  you  mean  by  it.  Perhaps 
you  think  you  can  unload  me,  now  that  you  are  free  to 
seek  another  woman  and  break  her  heart,  as  you  did  the 
woman  who  gave  you  your  first  start  in  life.     They  tell 


468  REMORSE  AND  RETRIBUTION 

me  she  died  of  a  broken  heart,  as  did  my  mother,  one  mourn- 
ing the  loss  of  you,  the  other  of  me.     Is  not  that  so?" 

"I  am  not  in  a  mood  to  listen  to  your  lectures  to-night," 
he  exclaimed. 

"No,  I  suppose  not.  You,  too,  have  remorse  of  con- 
science, the  death  of  two  good  women  is  on  your  guilty 
soul.  I  suppose  you  have  been  shedding  crocodile  tears. 
If  so,  what  brought  you  here  to-night?  I  didn't  send  for 
you." 

"No,  you  fagot,  but  I  can  go  again.  I'm  sorry  I  came," 
with  this  he  reached  for  his  hat. 

The  woman  extended  her  hand  and  prevented  him  from 
getting  it,  saying,  "Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry.  I  have  some- 
thing more  to  say  before  3^011  go.  I  have  been  3^our  mistress 
for  some  years ;  you  had  the  grit,  or  the  gall,  whatever 
you  may  call  it,  to  acknowledge  me  before  all  your  asso- 
ciates while  your  wife  was  living.  You  have  taken  me  on 
your  vacations  and  introduced  me  in  society  as  your  wife, 
and  by  the  eternal,  you'll  have  to  continue  so.  Mind,  I  am 
not  to  be  fooled  with  now,  as  I  was  when  you  first  plied 
me  with  wine  and  took  advantage  of  my  condition,  taking 
me  away  from  home  and  kindred." 

"Give  me  my  hat.  I  have  heard  enough  of  this.  You 
were  a  harlot  before  I  met  you." 

"Who  told  you  so?"  she  screamed. 

"Hart  told  me  so,  and  he'll  prove  it  the  moment  I  want 
him,"  with  this  he  attempted  to  take  his  hat  from  her 
hand. 

She  stepped  back  close  to  the  bureau,  a  calmness  seem- 
ing to  come  over  her,  as  she  beckoned  him  back  and  raising 
herself  to  her  full  stature,  said,  "I  see  your  intention  now. 
Let  me  give  you  my  ultimatum.  While  your  wife  lived 
I  was  under  some  restraint — not  much,  'tis  true — but  she 
was  a  woman,  and  I  knew  she  was  outraged  by  you — she 
had  religious  scruples,  and  so  had  to  bide  with  you.  She 
was  afraid  of  hell — I  have  no  such  dread.  If  there  is  a 
hell  for  a  wicked  woman  such  as  I,  what  is  there  for  you? 
You  thief,  you  have  betrayed  everyone  who  reposed  con- 


Retribution 


REMORSE  AND  RETRIBUTION  469 

fidence  in  you,  both  man  and  woman !"  At  this  point  he 
grasped  her  by  the  arm  in  an  attempt  to  wrest  his  hat  from 
her  hand.  She  pushed  him  back,  cowing-  him  by  the  very 
paroxysm  of  her  intense  passion. 

"Stay  a  moment,"  she  cried,  "let  me  conclude.  You  have 
called  me  a  harlot — that's  a  pretty  hard  name,  common 
women  of  the  street,  as  a  rule,  resent  it,  but  if  I  am,  what 
are  you?     Eh?"  she  screamed,  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

"Come,  give  me  my  hat ;  I'll  stand  no  more  of  this.  I 
am  through  with  you  for  all  time." 

"Oh,  no,  your're  not — you're  going  to  make  a  fresh  be- 
ginning with  me.  I  am  as  good  as  you,  you'll  have  to 
marry  me." 

At  this,  the  man's  passion  was  so  aroused  that  he  again 
grasped  her  by  the  arm,  and  exclaiming,  "I  would  see  you 
down  in  the  bottomless  pit  of  hell  first!"  As  he  held  her, 
she  struggled  with  him,  striking  him  in  the  face  with  the 
hat  she  held  in  her  left  hand.  He  grasped  it,  and,  wrench- 
ing it  from  her,  struck  her  full  in  the  face.  She  reeled 
against  the  dresser,  and  as  she  recovered  herself,  she 
grasped  the  revolver  in  her  right  hand.  He  saw  his  danger 
and  placed  his  hands  to  his  face  as  if  to  ward  off  the  blow. 
Florence  fired,  and  the  man  received  a  charge  full  in  the 
breast  and  as  he  fell  forward  another  shot  struck  him  in 
the  forehead. 

Screams  were  heard  throughout  the  house.  The  fright- 
ened figure  of  the  maid  was  the  first  to  reach  the  room. 
She  saw  her  mistress  standing  like  a  statue,  with  the  smok- 
ing revolver  in  her  hand,  while  on  the  floor  lay  the  lifeless 
body  of  one  whose  transgressions,  let  it  be  hoped,  his  un- 
timely taking  ofif,  will  partly  atone  for. 


The  early  editions  of  the  morning  papers  had  large  head- 
lines giving  an  account  of  the  assassination  of  Alderman 
Great.  Later  in  the  day  specials  were  issued  giving  a  rec- 
ord of  his  public  life.  The  following  day  they  had  editor- 
ials, some  of  an  apologetic  character,  stating,  while  they 


470  THE  ROBBERY 

had  not  agreed  with  him  on  all  occasions,  still  his  knowl- 
edge of  public  affairs  and  his  untiring  energy  had  to  be 
commended.  "The  case  is  doubly  painful  from  the  fact 
that  but  a  few  weeks  before  he  had  lost  a  devoted  wife  to 
whom  he  was  deeply  attached ;  that  there  was  no  doubt  his 
funeral  would  be  attended  by  a  vast  concourse  of  people, 
to  a  great  number  of  whom  he  was  personally  known,  and 
by  many  would  be  sadly  missed,  as  his  well  known  philan- 
throphy  had  endeared  him  to  all  who  knew  him." 

"It  is  reported  that  the  woman  who  slew  him  was  deeply 
in  his  debt  for  many  services  he  had  rendered  her,"  was 
another  newspaper  comment. 

"The  council  has  already  called  a  special  session  to  pass 
suitable  resolutions,  and  make  arrangements  for  the  fun- 
eral." 

Hooligan  was  stunned  when  he  heard  the  news.  "We'll 
never  see  the  like  of  him  again,"  he  moaned  to  the  crowd 
that  had  assembled  in  his  temple  of  personal  liberty  to  hear 
the  latest  news. 

Hart  was  the  loudest  in  his  denunciation  of  "the  cat," 
who  he  claimed  he  had  cast  off  years  ago  as  being  "no 
good." 

"I  would  like  to  have  the  job  of  hanging  her,"  was  Rock's 
wish,  as  he  grinned  while  gloating  over  the  happy  thought. 


Chapter  XLVHI 

THE   robbery. 

Gus  Schultz,  who  had  fallen  heir  to  his  brother's  horse, 
wagon,  and  peddling  route,  sauntered  into  Hooligan's  one 
evening,  at  a  time  when  Mort,  Bert.  Hart,  and  Phipps  were 
playing  cards.     He  went  and  stood  behind  Mort. 

"Hello,  Schultz,"  said  Hart,  who  was  Mort's  partner. 
"How  are  things  coming?" 

"Pretty  good." 


THE   R©BBERY  471 

"How  do,  Gus?"  said  Mort,  looking  up  as  he  was  shuffling 
the  cards. 

"I  want  to  see  you,"  whispered  Schultz. 

"All  right ;  wait  a  minute.  This  game  is  nearly  out." 
When  the  game  was  finished,  Mort  turned,  and  seeing  Rock, 
asked  him  to  play  his  hand  for  him.  "I  will  be  back  in  a 
minute  or  two." 

Mort  and  Schultz  sauntered  down  the  street.  When  they 
reached  a  dark  spot,  they  stood,  Schultz  looking  around 
carefully  to  see  if  they  were  observed,  and  in  a  whisper, 
said,  "I  think  I  struck  something  good  for  you  to-day." 

"Is  that  so?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  is  it?" 

"Out  in  Hyde  Park,  a  swell  neighborhood.  It  was  dis 
way  :  I  was  peddling  out  there,  and  I  spots  a  house  with 
the  blinds  all  down.  I  gives  a  good  look  and  sees  the  num- 
ber, den  I  drives  'round  to  de  back  and  goes  through  the 
alley,  shouting  my  vegetables,  w^hen  I  comes  to  de  rear  of 
(le  house,  as  I  tinks.  I  looks  up  and  sees  all  de  blinds  down. 
1  goes  in  through  de  gate  and  up  de  walk  to  de  back  door. 
1  find  it  fast.  Just  den  the  woman  next  door  shouts  from 
de  next  porch,  'There  is  no  one  in  there,  young  man.'  Ts 
dat  so?'  says  I.  Den  I  goes  out  and  shouts  up  to  de  lady, 
'Can  I  sell  you  anyting  dis  morning,  ma'am?'" 

"'What  have  you?'  she  says. 

"  'Potatoes,  onions,  carrots,  and  cabbage,  ma'am/ 

"'What  kind  of  potatoes  have  you?' 

"  'De  best  in  de  land,  ma'am.' 

"  'Let  me  see  dem,'  she  says. 

"So  I  takes  a  couple  of  taters  up  to  her. 

"She  says,  'Dey  look  all  right ;  bring  me  up  a  peck,' — 
dey  never  asks  de  price  in  dose  swell  places.  'You  can  also 
bring  me  up  a  small  measure  of  onions  and  a  couple  of 
heads  of  cabbage.' 

"  'Tank  you,  ma'am,'  says  I.  Den  I  goes  down  and  brings 
up  de  goods,  and  while  I'm  making  de  change  I  asks  her 
when  she  'spects  de  people  next  door  back.     She  says,  'De 


472  THE   ROBBERY 

Goldberg's?' — I  tink  dat's  what  she  called  dem — 'Won't 
be  back  for  two  weeks  yet.'  I  says,  'Dat's  too  bad.'  She 
looks  at  me  and  asks  me  if  dey're  customers.  I  says,  'Yes, 
dat  dere's  a  little  'count  standing' — I  makes  believe  to  look 
•in  my  book — 'sixty -cents."  She  says,  'Dat's  all  right,  dey'll 
pay  you  when  dey  gets  back.'  I  says,  'Money's  wery  scarce, 
ma'am  ;  do  you  tink  I  could  get  it  from  de  man  who  takes 
care  of  de  house  or  perhaps  de  woman  ?'  She  says  'There 
is  no  one  takes  care  of  de  house;  dey  just  lock  up  de  door 
and  go.'  I  says,  'Who  feeds  de  dog?'  Den  she  says,  'They 
have  no  dog.'  I  den  says,  'I  hope  you  will  find  dem  wege- 
tables  all  right,  ma'am,  and  dat  you  will  be  a  steady  cus- 
tomer.'   'Well,  I'll  see  when  you  come  'round  again.' 

"I  tanks  her  and  goes  away  shouting,  'Potatoes,  onions, 
turnips,  cabbage,  beets  !'  " 

"It  looks  prett}^  good  to  me,  Schultz.  I'll  send  Rock  out 
there  to-morrow  to  investigate.  If  it  proves  any  good, 
I'll  see  that  you  stand  in." 

The  next  day  Rock  went  to  investigate.  He  had  about 
a  half  dozen  brooms  on  his  shoulder  and  a  few  brushes 
tied  on  a  string.  He  went  to  the  front  of  the  Goldberg's 
residence  and  placed  his  finger  on  the  electric  bell ;  he  kept 
it  there  for  about  thirty  seconds.  There  was  no  response. 
He  went  around  to  the  rear,  tried  the  back  door,  looked  at 
the  windows,  and  then  went  up  the  porch  steps,  tried  the 
door  on  the  second  story,  then  climbed  up  to  the  third 
story  to  try  the  door  and  inspect  the  windows.  A  man 
shouted  from  the  alley.  "There  is  no  one  in  there !"  Rock 
came  down  and  sauntered  leisurely  away.  That  night, 
which  was  Thursday,  he  made  a  report.  "Everything  O. 
K. — no  trouble  getting  in."  They  decided  to  "crack  the 
crib"  the  next  night. 

"Do  you  think  there  is  likely  to  be  much  stir  around 
there  after  midnight?"  inquired  Hart. 

"It  will  be  as  still  as  a  graveyard."  was  Rock's  reply. 

"We  will  have  to  use  a  wagon,"  replied  Mort,  "and  as 
Schultz  wants  to  stand  in,  he  will  have  to  drive  it." 


THE   ROBBERY  473 

"That  kid's  full  of  grit,"  said  Hart,  "and  he'll  be  glad 
of  the  chance." 

"See  that  he  has  no  marks  on  his  wagon,  by  which  it 
can  be  identified  if  we  have  to  run  for  it,"  said  Mort,  ad- 
dressing Rock.  "See  him  in  the  morning  before  he  goes 
out,  tell  him  what  you  want  and  be  sure  and  tell  him  not 
to  go  in  that  direction  tomorrow  if  he  goes  peddling." 

On  the  Saturday  morning  on  which  the  burglary  was  to 
take  place,  the  lieutenant  in  charge  of  police  Precinct  No. — 
was  sitting  in  his  office  talking  to  the  sergeant.  "Well, 
McCarthy,  we  are  having  lots  of  trouble  these  times.  I 
was  talking  with  the  chief  to-day  and  I  know  by  his  tone 
he  was  very  much  dissatisfied.  Six  burglaries  within  a 
month  in  our  territory,  is  going  some." 

"I'm  sure,  lieutenant,  I've  done  all  I  can.  My  men  have 
visited  every  resort  on  the  South  Side,  got  in  touch  with 
the  fellows,  and  sees  no  signs  of  prosperity  amongst  them. 
They  have  also  pumped  the  women  and  they  report  to  me 
nothing  doing.  My  impression  is  that  the  fellows  who  have 
been  working  in  our  district  come  from  some  nearby  city. 
My  men  are  always  questioning  the  people  "in  the  neigh- 
borhood and  they  all  say  they  haven't  noticed  any  suspi- 
cious characters  around.     I  admit  I'm' up  against  it." 

"Well,  I  suppose  we'll  only  have  to  watch  and  wait.  It's 
one-thirty."  looking  up  at  the  clock  in  the  office,  "I  think 
I'll  turn  in  for  awhile.  See  who  that  is."  McCarthy  went 
to  the  phone  and  placed  the  receiver  to  his  ear.  "Yes,  yes. 
yes!  The  lieutenant's  here  himself.  Lieutenant,  hurry!" 
in  an  excited  manner.  The  lieutenant  grabbed  the  receiver 
out  of  McCarthy's  hand. 

"Yes,  Goldberg's?  I  know  the  place.  The  man  across 
the  street,  did  you  say?    Good-bye." 

"Mac,  I  think  they're  operating  in  Goldberg's  house. 
Now's  your  chance.  How  many  men  have  you?  Run  to 
the  squad-room  and  find  out — I'll  order  out  the  wagon." 

McCarthy,  on  reaching  the  squad-room,  shouted,  "Now, 
boys,  get  ready."  The  men  immediately  began  to  buckle 
on  their  belts. 


474  THE   ROBBERY 

The  lieutenant  came  in.  "I  see  you  have  six  men,  Mac — 
where's  Taylor?" 

"He's  out,  sir." 

"I  see  you  have  the  new  man.  Wosta,  here?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  you'll  have  to  take  him  with  you.  See  that  you 
bring  in  some  of  those  fellows,  dead  or  alive.  The  ser- 
geant will  give  you  men  instructions  when  you  get  in  the 
wagon.  Mac,  they're  sure  to  have  a  lookout,  try  and  bag 
him  if  you  can.     Go." 

As  soon  as  the  wagon  had  started,  McCarthy  stood  up 
and  addressing  the  driver,  said,  "When  you  get  to  Forty- 
sixth,  turn  west — before  you  come  to  Hinkley,  let  me  off; 
then  you  drive  through  the  first  alley  you  reach  toward 
Forty-seventh ;  allow  me  about  three  minutes'  start.  It's 
early  and  those  fellows  in  Goldberg's  will  be  occupied  for 
some  time.  Of  course,  if  you  hear  any  alarm,  get  there 
as  soon  as  you  can.  You  three  rush  towards  the  front  of 
the  house,  and  you  three,"  looking  on  the  side  Wosta  was 
seated,  "run  up  the  alley  from  the  rear,  the  house  is  in 
about  the  middle  of  the  block ;  arrest  every  person  you  meet. 
Driver,  let  me  off  here." 

As  soon  as  McCarthy,  who  was  in  plain  clothes,  got  off 
the  wagon  he  took  off  his  coat  and  hung  it  on  his  arm. 
his  hair  was  pulled  over  his  forehead,  pushing  his  hat  to 
the  back  of  his  head,  and  reeled  up  Forty-seventh  till  he 
came  to  Hinkley.  He  seemed  hardly  able  to  turn  the 
corner,  he  was  so  "full."  Rock,  who  was  on  the  lookout 
on  the  same  side  of  the  street,  peeped  out  from  the  shadow 
of  a  building  directly  opposite  Goldberg's.  The  detective, 
observing  him,  went  on  singing  a  snatch  of  a  song.  He 
dropped  his  coat  from  his  arm  and  seemed  to  have  trouble 
picking  it  up. 

"My,"  said  Rock  to  himself,  "that  fellow  has  a  good  one 
on — if  it  wasn't  that  I  have  other  business,  I'd  stick  him  up." 

McCarthy,  after  getting  his  coat,  came  staggering  along, 
going  from  one  side  to  the  other  of  the  narrow  sidewalk. 


THE  ROBBERY  475 

The  assumed  drunken  man,  head  down,  made  a  lurch  to- 
ward Rock  as  he  was  passing. 

Rock  stood  close  to  the  wall  to  let  him  pass. 

In  an  instant  the  policeman  pounced  on  him,  seizing  him 
by  the  throat.  Rock  put  two  fingers  in  his  mouth  and  gave 
two  shrill  whistles  ere  the  policeman  could  stop  him. 

The  clatter  of  the  horses  in  a  furious  gallop  and  the  roll 
of  the  wheels  could  be  heard  coming  thundering  along. 

Three  of  the  policemen,  as  instructed,  jumped  ofif  at  the 
corner,  and  rushed  for  the  alley.  Wosta,  who  was  most 
active,  in  the  lead.  When  he  was  about  two  lots  from 
the  house  which  was  being  robbed,  he  saw  a  man  run  out 
of  the  little  gate  in  the  rear.  He  yelled,  "Stop !  Or  I  will 
fire !"  The  fugitive  paid  no  attention,  but  ran.  W^osta  pur- 
suing him,  and  just  as  the  man  reached  an  angle  of  the 
alley,  where  another  alle}'  joined,  he  turned  around  and, 
taking  deliberate  aim,  fired  two  shots  in  the  direction  of 
his  pursuer.  Wosta,  who  was  bending  every  effort  to  catch 
him,  saw  him  in  the  act  of  turning  the  corner  of  the  fence, 
and  fearing  the  man  would  escape,  he  fired  as  he  ran.  He 
heard  a  groan  and  reaching  the  corner  he  found  a  man  flat 
on  his  back.  The  jolting  of  a  wagon  a  little  way  ahead  at- 
tracted his  attention.  He  continued  the  pursuit.  Mean- 
while the  wagon  was  being  driven  up  the  alley  in  which 
the  wounded  man  la3^  and  he  heard  the  driver  flogging  the 
horse  and  urging  it  along.  He  ran  as  fast  as  he  could.  He 
saw  the  driver,  in  his  haste,  make  too  sharp  a  turn,  the 
right  wheel  struck  the  curb  nearly  throwing  the  driver,  the 
wagon  skidding  into  the  center  of  the  street.  This  delay 
enabled  Wosta  to  reach  the  side  of  the  wagon,  and  pointing 
his  gun  at  the  driver,  told  him  to  stop  or  he'd  fire. 

"Don't  shoot,  mister,  I  give  up!"  cried  Schultz.  in  ab- 
ject fear. 

Wosta  got  up  along  side  of  the  driver  and  made  him 
drive  up  Forty-eighth  to  Hinkley  and  along  Hinkley  to 
Goldberg's,  where  he  found  McCarthy  with  Squinty  in  his 
custody,  another  policeman  having  captured  Bert,  who  had 
injured  his  ankle  in  running  down  the  stairs.     One  of  the 


476  THE  ROBBERY 

policemen  who  had  entered  at  the  front,  and  one  from  the 
rear,  was  searching  the  house.  One  of  them  claimed  that 
when  he  entered  he  saw  something  like  a  shadow  run  along 
the  passage. 

"He  did  not  come  out  at  the  rear,"  stoutly  persisted  the 
man  who  had  entered  from  that  direction. 

"Well,  make  a  search!"  shouted  McCarthy.  "Any  that's 
got  out  has  got  away  by  this  time." 

"No,"  said  one  of  the  policemen  who  was  just  entering 
at  the  time,  "there  is  one  that  got  out  that  didn't  get  away. 
He  is  lying  up  the  alley,  as  dead  as  a  mackerel.  Wosta 
shot  him  clear  through  the  head." 

"Good  for  Wosta!"  remarked  McCarthy. 

One  of  the  policemen  was  stationed  at  the  front  and  one 
at  the  rear  entrance  to  prevent  escape. 

McCarthy  took  charge  of  the  three  prisoners,  whom  he 
handcuffed  together.  The  other  three  policemen  being 
joined  with  the  regular  officer  on  the  beat,  commenced  to 
make  a  thorough  search  of  the  premises.  They  found  on 
the  parlor  floor,  clothing  and  furs  tied  up  in  a  bundle ;  in 
the  dining  room,  silver  and  plated  ware  wrapped  up  ready 
for  removal,  the  bed-room  dresser  drawers  had  been  pulled 
out.  and  the  clothes,  of  not  much  value,  strewn  on  the  floor. 
A  rear  room  with  the  door  entering  on  to  the  porch  was 
wide  open.  On  the  porch  adjoining  there  were  a  man  and 
two  women  standing.  The  man  had  only  his  pants  on,  the 
women  shivering  with  fright,  stood  close  to  him. 

"Have  you  got  them,  officer?"  inquired  the  man. 

"We  can  account  for  four  of  them."  answered  the  officer. 

"I  am  sure  one  of  them  ran  along  this  porch  and  must 
have  jumped  into  the  next  yard." 

"Is  that  so?  He  has  likely  escaped  then."  was  the  of- 
ficer's answer. 

After  searching  the  upper  floors,  Wosta  remarked.  "There 
is  a  door  here  leading  down  to  where  the  furnace  is.  Let 
us  go  down."  "I  don't  think  it's  much  use."  remarked  one 
of  the  men,  who  had  been  long  in  the  service.    "The  time 


THE   ROBBERY  477 

it  would  take  a  man  to  go  down  there  he  could  be  out  in 
the  street." 

"I  am  sure  I  saw  a  fellow  dive  along  this  passage  just 
as  I  came  in  at  the  front,"  persisted  the  man  who  claimed 
to  have  seen  the  shadow  go  along  the  passage. 

"Well,  we'll  look,  anyhow." 

The  three  officers  went  down  into  the  basement  and  lit 
the  gas.  "This  is  the  way  into  the  coal  hole,"  remarked 
Wosta,  looking  at  a  door  that  led  under  the  sidewalk. 

"What's  that?" — the  three  officers  pointed  their  guns  at 
the  door,  whence  a  sound  had  come  as  if  of  falling  coal. 
Wosta  went  towards  the  door  as  if  to  open  it. 

"Look  out,  Wosta,"  was  the  caution  of  his  brother  of- 
ficers. 

Wosta  struck  a  match  and  went  in.  "Here  he  is!"  he 
cried,  as  he  emerged  from  under  the  sidewalk  with  Phipps, 
who  had  surrendered,  with  judgment,  seeing  the  jig  was 
up.  He  was  brought  out  to  where  McCarthy  and  another 
officer  had  charge  of  the  other  prisoners. 

"Two  of  you  men  drive  that  express  wagon  around  in 
the  alley  and  pick  up  the  dead  one.  You  stay  here,  Wosta," 
who,  being  a  young  man  on  the  force,  was  eager  to  carry 
out  instructions.  McCarthy  felt  that  Wosta  had  done  a 
good  night's  work  already. 

One  of  the  policemen  was  left  behind  to  watch  the  prem- 
ises. 

When  the  patrol  wagon,  followed  by  the  express,  reached 
the  precinct,  the  lieutenant  was  standing  on  the  steps.  "I 
see  you  have  been  doing  some  business,  Sergeant." 

"Yes,  sir,  we  have  a  fairly  good  haul." 

"Bring  them  in  while  we  have  a  look  at  them." 

"We've  a  dead  one  in  the  express  wagon — he  ran  up 
against  a  stray  bullet." 

"He'll  have  to  go  to  the  morgue.  Bring  the  other  fellows 
in — let's  see  if  we  know  any  of  them." 

The  lieutenant  went  toward  his  office,  followed  by  the 
officers  and  their  prisoners. 

McCarthy,   not  having  recognized   Squinty,   not  having 


478  THE   ROBBERY 

seen  him  in  the  light,  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and 
exclaimed,  "Well,  you  cock-eyed  son  of  a  gun !  Is  this  the 
line  you're  in?" 

"Why,  lieutenant,  we  have  had  this  fellow  always  rated 
as  a  street-car  worker.  No  one  will  be  more  surprised 
than  the  chief  when  he  hears  of  this." 

Squinty  grinned  all  over  as  if  it  were  a  compliment  that 
had  been  paid  him. 

"You  think  you  got  them  all,  Sergeant?" 

"Don't  know,  sir.  The  people  in  the  next  house  thought 
that  some  one  ran  across  their  back  porch." 

"Who  was  with  you,  Squinty?"  inquired  the  lieutenant. 

"No  one ;  only  who  you  see  here." 

"He's  a  lying  son  of  a !  Lieutenant,  you  cannot  be- 
lieve a  word  he  says." 

"Who's  the  boy?"  inquired  the  lieutenant. 

"He's  a  youngster  we  hired  to  carry  the  swag;  he  didn't 
know  anything  about  it." 

"That's  too  thin,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"Give  an  account  of  yourself,  young  man !" 

"Well,  you  see,  I'm  an  expressman  and  this  gentleman 
hired  me." 

"What  did  he  say  when  he  hired  you?" 

"That  they  had  bought  some  goods  and  wanted  me  to 
move   them   for  them,   sir." 

"Well,  didn't  it  strike  you  as  a  peculiar  time  of  the  night 
to  be  moving  things?" 

"Well,  you  see.  sir.  us  expressmen  has  to  work  when- 
ever we  can  get  the  job." 

"Have  you  got  a  license?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  much  did  you  pay  for  it?" 

"I  didn't  pay  anything ;  a  friend  of  mine  got  it  for  me." 

"Who's  your  friend,  might  I  ask?" 

"Alderman  Great,  sir." 

The  lieutenant  and  McCarthy  exchanged  significant 
glances. 

"What  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?"  turning  to  Bert. 


THE   ROBBERY  479 

"I  would  prefer  to  say  nothing,  until  I  consult  my  law- 
yer." 

"Take  them  downstairs,  Sergeant,  and  we  will  interview 
them  when  we  have  more  time." 

"What  about  the  dead  one,  lieutenant?" 

"O,  yes.  Who's  the  fellow  in  the  wagon,  Squinty? 
Come,  now,  there's  no  use  in  keeping  that  from  us,  we  will 
have  to  know  to-morrow." 

"It's  Red  Hart." 

At  the  mention  of  his  name,  Herman  Wosta,  who  up  to 
this  time  had  been  a  silent  observer,  raised  his  two  hands 
to  his  head  and  gave  a  shout.  All  eyes  turned  towards 
him. 

"You  must  have  known   him,  officer?" 

"Yes !"  he  screamed,  "damn  his  soul  into  eternity — I 
knew  him !  I'm  glad  I  shot  him  like  a  dog,  as  he  was !" 
He  sat  down  on  a  chair  that  was  behind  him  and  placing 
his  head  between  his  two  hands,  wept  bitterly.  All  present 
were  affected  by  the  terrible  outburst  of  the  man  who  had 
been  looked  upon  as  one  totally  devoid  of  any  emotion. 

There  was  a  painful  silence  for  a  moment,  nothing  could 
be  heard  but  the  violent  sobbing  of  the  man  in  the  chair. 
At  length  the  lieutenant,  who  was  visibly  affected  by  the 
passion  of  a  man  whom  he  had  looked  upon  as  one  of  the 
most  docile  he  had  ever  come  in  contact  with,  said,  "Officer 
Wosta,  you  must  calm  yourself.  I  know  there  is  some- 
thing very  serious  behind  this  to  affect  you  so.  I  will  re- 
lieve you  from  duty  until  the  inquest  has  to  be  heard.  You 
can   go  home." 

"Thank  you,  sir."  He  arose,  wiping  his  eyes,  and  left 
the  station. 

"Come,  McCarthy,  remove  your  prisoners.  We  won't 
book  them  at  present." 

As  soon  as  the  prisoners  were  taken  below,  McCarthy 
returned  to  the  office. 

"Lieutenant,  I'm  satisfied  one  of  the  fellows  got  away, 
and  I  think  I  can  guess  who  he  was.  Since  I  have  been 
up  here  I  have  lost  track  of  the  gang,  but  Henry  Mort,  I 


480  THE  ROBBERY 

know,  is  a  pal  of  theirs — you'd  better  teleplione  Central 
for  them  to  send  a  man  out  to  try  and  locate  him."" 

The  lieutenant  telephoned  full  information  of  the  capture 
and  killing  of  one  of  the  burglars,  and  the  surmised  es- 
cape of  another,  with  McCarthy's  suggestion  as  to  the 
probabilit}'  of  Henry  Mort  being  the  man  who  escaped. 
This  done,  he  sat  down. 

"Well,  Mac,  we've  saved  our  reputation,  we'll  smoke." 

"Lieutenant,  I  know  the  reason  of  Wosta's  excitement 
when  he  heard  it  was  Hart  he  killed." 

"Is  that  so?" 

McCarthy  told  his  superior  officer  what  he  knew  about 
the  early  history  of  Florence  Burdett,  and  how  Hart  had 
first  violated  her,  and  then  persecuted  her,  until  the  alder- 
man had  taken  her  under  his  wing  with  such  fatal  results. 

"I'm  afraid  they'll  hang  her,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"If  they  do  it's  a  damned  outrage."  replied  McCarthy, 
vehemently.  "I  know  a  good  deal  of  that  young  woman's 
history,  and  if  I  get  an  opportunity  to  use  it  in  her  behalf, 
I  will." 

The  morning  after  the  attempted  robbery  at  Goldberg's, 
a  search  was  made  of  the  house  in  which  Hart  and  Rock 
stayed.  Considerable  property  was  found  in  their  rooms; 
the  product  of  previous  burglaries. 

"I  wonder  where  they  got  the  brooms?"  remarked  one 
of  the  searching  party. 

"We'll  bring  them  along,"  said  the  officer  in  command, 
"some  party  may  claim  them." 

The  police  also  visited  the  house  where  Bert  and  Phipps 
roomed,  but  no  incriminating  evidence  was  found.  A  dili- 
gent search  was  made  to  find  Mort,  Officer  McCarthy  main- 
taining that  he  was  still  in  the  city ;  in  this  he  erred. 

The  inquest  on  Hart  was  a  mere  formality.  "He  died 
from  a  Avound  administered  at  the  hands  of  a  police  offi- 
cer, while  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty."  Wosta's  evidence 
was  clear  and  concise.  He  described  how  he  pursued  the 
fleeing  man  up  the  alley,  how  the  deceased  turned  and 
fired  two  shots  at  him  at  close  range,  and  how  he,  Wosta, 


THE   ROBBERY  481 

returned  the  fiie  with  fatal  result.  The  deputy  coroner 
complimented  him  on  his  bravery.  The  foreman  of  the 
jury  remarking-,  "It's  a  pity  we  haven't  more  men  like  him 
on  the  force."     Wosta  received  the  eulogy  modestly. 

The  lieutenant  tapped  his  subordinate  on  the  back — 
"Wosta.  you're  all  right." 

The  people  in  the  next  house  to  Goldberg's,  out  of  cur- 
iosity, had  attended  the  inquest,  which  was  held  at  the 
Hyde   Park  station. 

"I  should  very  much  like  to  see  the  prisoners,"  remarked 
one  of  the  women. 

"All  right,  madam."  said  the  genial  lieutenant.  The  party 
was  taken  downstairs  to  where  the  prisoners  were  confined. 

"Dear  me !"  exclaimed  the  woman,  "if  that  isn't  the  ped- 
dler," looking  at  Schultz,  who  tried  hard  not  to  be  seen. 

"Bring  him  out,"  ordered  the  lieutenant,  to  the  lockup 
keeper.  Schultz  was  brought  out,  and  fully  identified  by 
the  woman,  who  described  her  interview  with  him,  and 
his  inquiry  as  to  when  the  Goldbergs  would  return,  even 
to  his  suggestion  as  to  who  fed  the  dog. 

"  A  pretty  smart  youngster,"  remarked  the  lieutenant, 
as  Schultz  was  being  put  back. 

Claimants  were  found  for  most  of  'the  property  that  had 
been  recoAcred.  except  a  few  articles  of  small  value,  and 
the  brooms. 

The  lady  who  had  identified  Schultz  was  describing  the 
matter  to  some  of  her  neighbors  and  the  amount  of  prop- 
erty that  had  been  recovered.  ,  "Why !"  she  exclaimed 
"Thev  must  have  even  broken  into  a  broom  factory." 

"Brooms!  Brooms;"  said  one  of  her  listeners.  "\'\^hy. 
there  was  a  fellow  around  selling  brooms  the  very  dav  be- 
fore. I  wonder  if  he  had  anything  to  do  with  it?  Now, 
as  I  remember,  he  was  up  on  the  Goldberg's  porch." 

"Could  you  recognize  him?"  inquired  the  woman. 

"Well.  I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  him.  and  when  I 
told  him  there  was  no  one  there  he  came  down  and  kind 
of  turned  his  head  away.  I  noticed,  though,  he  had  a 
cast  in  his  eye." 


482  AN    IMPORTANT   CAPTURE 

"That's  him !"  exclaimed  the  woman,  excitedly.  The  man 
visited  the  station  and  fully  identified  Rock. 

"You  feel  confident  that  is  the  same  man?"  said  the  lieu- 
tenant. 

"Sure !  Now  when  I  get  a  good  look  at  him,  I  could 
pick  him  out  from  a  thousand." 

The  lieutenant  was  determined  to  push  the  case  against 
them.  He  believed  those  were  the  fellows  that  gave  him 
all  the  trouble,  so  he  used  his  influence  with  the  State's 
Attorney  to  give  them  a  speedy  trial.  "Those  fellows  have 
a  pull,"  he  said,  "and  the  sooner  you  get  through  with 
them,  the  better."    So  their  case  was  called  without  delay. 

The  evidence  was  complete,  the  prosecution  claimed  that 
Schultz's  mission  was  to  locate  the  places — he  had  already 
a  criminal  record — and  that  Rock  planned  the  robberies, 
the  recovered  articles  being  found  in  his  place.  Bert  and 
Phipps  the  police  knew  little  about,  only  that  they  associ- 
ated with  a  bad  gang.     They  were  all  convicted. 

Rock  was  sentenced  to  ten  years  in  the  penitentiary. 
He  took  his  medicine  without  a  murmur.  Schultz  got  five 
years.  He  set  up  a  howl  and  roared  like  a  lusty  fellow, 
one  of  the  bailififs  having  to  tell  him  to  shut  up.  Bert  and 
Phipps  got  off  with  two  years  each,  their  counsel  claim- 
ing that  they  had  never  been  arrested  before.  Their  per- 
sonal appearance,  however,  had  much  to  do  in  impressing 
the  jury  in  their  favor.  They  took  their  sentences  philo- 
sophically, thanked  their  lawyer,  saying  they  were  satisfied. 


Chapter  XLIX 
an  important  capture. 


One  evening,  in  the  early  part  of  October,  189 — ,  a  deputy 
sheriff  accompanied  by  a  number  of  men  on  horseback, 
rode  up  to  the  Monroe  homestead.  The  deputy  and  two 
others  dismounted  and  ran  up  the  steps  leading  to  the 
veranda  in  a  very  excited  manner. 


AN    IMPORTANT   CAPTURE  483 

"What's  up?"  inquired  Sheriff  Scully,  running  to  meet 
them. 

"Why,  there's  been  an  attempt  to  rob  the  bank  at  Nort !" 

"Did  they  get  anything?" 

"No,  they  must  have  got  alarmed  before  they  could  com- 
plete the  job.  They  were  pursued  some  distance,  but  es- 
caped in  the  darkness.  They  are  now  hiding  somewhere 
in  the  rough  country,  the  other  side  of  Pine  Ridge." 

"Well,  go  muster  what  men  you  can,  we'll  after  them. 
George,  bring  my  horse  to  the  front." 

It  was  well  on  in  the  morning  ere  the  posse  returned, 
but  no  track  of  the  robbers  could  be  found. 

The  following  day  three  different  parties  were  sent  out 
with  orders  from  the  sheriff  to  arrest  all  suspicious  per- 
sons they  might  find. 

It  was  near  sunset  the  same  evening  when  a  solitary 
traveler  could  be  seen  walking  over  the  prairie.  He  had 
just  left  the  gulch,  and  seemed  to  be  in  doubt  as  to  which 
way  to  turn.  After  a  few  moments'  hesitancy  he  started 
in  the  direction  of  Pine  Ridge.  He  hadn't  gone  far  when 
he  noticed  a  number  of  horsemen  galloping  towards  him. 
When  within  hailing  distance  they  shouted  for  him  to  stop ; 
one  of  them  firing  a  pistol  to  emphasize  the  order. 

"Where  are  you  from,  young  fellow?"  shouted  the  leader, 
as  they  surrounded  him. 

"I'm  from  Omaha.     I'm  looking  for  work." 

"You  are,  are  you?  Well,  we  may  be  able  to  find  you 
a  job  that  may  last  you  for  some  time." 

This  threat  seemed  to  alarm  the  stranger,  who  showed 
signs  of  nervousness. 

"Do  you  know  any  one  around  here?"  inquired  the  first 
man  who  addressed  him. 

"No,  sir." 

"Then  we'll  introduce  you  to  some  people.  You'll  have 
to  come  with  us.  Get  up  behind  that  man  on  that  brown 
bronco,  and  don't  attempt  to  get  away  or  we'll  fix  you 
for  good!" 

The  traveler,  seeing  no  alternative,  mounted  behind  a 


484  AN   IMPORTANT   CAPTURE 

fierce  looking  cowboy  who  had  a  gun  slung  over  his 
shoulder,  and  held  a  revolver  in  his  hand.  After  traveling 
some  miles  the  stranger  spoke  to  the  man  who  seemed  to 
be  in  command.     "\\'here  are  you  taking  me  to?" 

"A\'e'll  put  you  in  the  calaboose  for  the  night  and  we'll 
be  able  to  give  you  more  information  in  the  morning," 
was  the  response,  in  a  determined  voice.  It  was  dark  when 
they  reached  the  little  village  ;  the  stranger  could  see  a  big 
house  lit  up  on  his  right. 

"Who  lives  there?"  he  inquired  of  the  man  who  rode 
in  front  of  him. 

"The  sherifif;  you'll  make  his  acquaintance  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

Reaching  the  calaboose,  which  seemed  a  strong  wooden 
structure,  the  captive  surveyed  it  with  a  critical  eye  while 
one  of  his  escort  was  unlocking  the  door  and  removing 
the  bar. 

"Search  him,"  said  the  leader.  "We  may  find  something 
that  will  lead  to  his  identity."  Three  dollars  in  silver, 
some  small  change,  a  pocket-knife,  a  book  and  a  couple 
of  pocket  handkerchiefs  were  all  that  was  found  on  the 
captive.  "Not  an  extensive  outfit  for  a  traveler  all  the  way 
from  Omaha,"  remarked  the  leader,  looking  at  the  prisoner. 
"Do  you  want  anything  to  eat?" 

"I'd  be  the  better  for  something;  I've  had  nothing  since 
morning." 

"Take  a  swig  of  this."  said  one  of  the  men,  handing  him 
a  flask. 

"We'll  send  you  over  something  after  a  while.  Come, 
lock  up,  Zack." 

Young  Bob  Stringer,  who  was  the  leader  of  the  posse 
which  made  the  capture,  went  toward  the  sheriff's  house 
to  report,  carrying  with  him  the  articles  wdiich  had  been 
taken  from  the  prisoner  tied  up  in  one  of  the  pocket  hand- 
kerchiefs. Scully,  his  wife,  Mrs.  Thompson,  and  Monroe 
were  seated  in  the  parlor  with  the  children.  There  was 
a  knock  at  the  door. 

"Come  in!"  shouted  the  bass  tone  of  the  sherifif. 


AN    IMPORTANT   CAPTURE  485 

"Hello,  Bob !    Well,  did  you  make  a  capture?" 

"Yes,  sir,  we  got  one  fellow.  Whether  he's  the  right 
one  or  not  we  don't  know,  but  he  looked  mighty  scared 
when  we  got  him." 

"What  kind  of  a  looking  fellow  is  he?" 

"Pretty  tough.  He  looks  as  if  he  hadn't  been  shaved 
for  a  couple  of  weeks." 

"Bob,  you've  got  the  wrong  man.  The  fellows  that 
are  in  the  bank-busting  business  are  pretty  smooth  men, 
whether  they  wear  dress  suits,  as  they  do  in  New^  York, 
or  chaps,  as  they  do  in  Arizona ;  they're  all  pretty  slick. 
It's  some  tramp  you've  got,  but  you  did  well  to  bring  him 
in,  anyway.     What  have  you  in  the  bundle?     Let  me  see." 

Bob  proceeded  to  untie  the  handkerchief.  As  he  did  so 
the  money  rolled  out  on  the  table.  "That's  suspicious, 
anyway,"  said  Scully,  smiling  at  Bob,  who  handed  the 
pocket-knife  over  to  him. 

"Not  a  very  dangerous  weapon.  Bob,  nor  would  it  be 
of  much  use  in  prying  open  a  safe  door.  Let  me  see  that 
book." 

Bob  Stringer  handed  the  book  over  to  him.  Scully  had 
no  sooner  got  it  in  his  hand  and  turned  over  the  front 
cover  when  he  bounded  from  his  chair  as  if  something  had 
stung  him. 

"What  is  it,  Mike?"  exclaimed  his  wife,  in  alarm. 

Monroe  stood  up  in  w^onder. 

Mike  gazed  at  the  book  for  a  second  or  two  and,  then 
closing  it,  sat  down.  "Bob,  I  think  you  have  done  well. 
Keep  a  close  watch  over  your  prisoner,  see  that  he  does 
not  escape." 

"He  says  that  he  has  not  eaten  since  before  noon,  sir. 
He  looks  famished." 

"Mrs.  Thompson,  you'll  please  see  that  a  meal  is  pre- 
pared for  the  man ;  as  he  will  be  eating  at  the  county's 
expense,  and  as  we  seldom  have  an  important  prisoner, 
send  him  a  good  square  meal.  Remember,  Bob,  what  I 
told  you.  I  will  hold  you  responsible ;  see  he  doesn't 
escape." 


486     ■  AN   IMPORTANT   CAPTURE 

"Never  fear,  sir." 

The  following  morning  at  nine  o'clock  the  prisoner  was 
brought  into  the  sheriff's  office  by  Bob  Stringer  and  Zack, 
the  lockup  keeper,  each  carrying  a  rifle.  A  few  other  people 
followed  as  far  as  the  door,  eager  to  get  a  look  at  the 
culprit. 

Scully  recognized  his  prisoner  at  the  first  glance. 

"Sit  down,  sir."  The  man  took  a  seat  facing  the  sheriff. 
"Bob,  for  fear  he  would  make  a  break  for  the  window, 
I  want  you  to  go  outside  and  keep  watch ;  you,  Zack, 
go  outside  the  door  there,  and  see  he  doesn't  go  by  that 
way." 

In  a  few  moments  Bob  Stringer  could  be  seen  standing 
a  few  feet  from  the  window  carrying  his  rifle  in  a  posi- 
tion ready  to  fire.  Zack  had  pulled  up  a  chair  in  the  pas- 
sage and  sitting  on  it  rested  his  gun  on  his  knee.  All  this 
preparation  made  the  prisoner  turn  pale,  ere  a  question 
could  be  asked  him. 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"Henry  Jackson." 

"Where  do  you  hail  from,  Jackson?" 

"Omaha." 

"What  do  you   do  there?" 

"Work  in  the  packing  houses." 

"What  brought  you  out  here?  You  know  there's  no 
packing  houses  in  this  section?" 

"I  thought  I  would  try  a  change.  I  am  going  to  look 
for  a  job  in  the  mines." 

"Were  you  ever  in  Chicago?" 

"No,  sir.     Never  in  my  life." 

"You  lie ! — you  were !  I  have  your  description  here,  in 
my  desk.    I  believe  your  name  is  Henry  Mort." 

Mort  jumped  to  his  feet,  gave  one  glance  at  the  door, 
and  then  made  for  the  window ;  the  sheriff  seized  him  by 
the  arm  and  pulled  him  back,  forcing  him  into  the  chair. 
"It's  futile  for  yoti  to  think  to  escape  that  way.  Before 
you  went  half  a  dozen  steps,  that  fellow  out  there  would 
have  your  head  blown  off."    The  prisoner  was  deathly  pale. 


AN   IMPORTANT   CAPTURE  487 

"You  Still  have  one  chance.  Deny  you  are  Henry  Mort. 
I  don't  want  to  have  your  blood  on  my  head.  I  once  lived 
4n  Chicago  myself." 

"Where?" 

"On  Halsted  street." 

"What's  your  name?"  inquired  the  prisoner. 

"Mike  Scully." 

"My  old  schoolmate!"  shouted  Mort,  rising  and  placing 
his  arms  on  Scully's  shoulder,  where  he  wept  and  laughed 
alternately. 

"Mike,  I  would  never  have  known  you  in  the  world ; 
how  you've  changed !"  He  felt  Mike's  beard,  as  if  in 
doubt  as  to  its  reality. 

"Sit  down  now,  Henry,  and  compose  yourself.  I  never 
drink,  but  if  you  want  a  stimulant,  I  will  order  one." 

"I  think  I'd  be  the  better  for  it.  I'm  faint  with  joy; 
but,  Mike,  I've  had  a  terrible  time  this  past  two  w^eeks." 

"Never  mind  that,  now  dry  your  eyes.     Zack !    Zackl" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Have  you  got  a  flask?" 

"Yes,  but  there's  hardly  a  drink  in  it." 

"Well,  go  and  get  it  filled  in  the  kitchen.  Your  prisoner 
has  made  a  clean  breast  of  everything,  he  feels  weak.  Bring 
a  glass  with  you." 

When  Zack  returned  he  was  told  to  take  his  place  out- 
side the  door  and  to  be  sure  to  keep  a  close  lookout. 

Scully  helped   Mort  to  half  a  tumbler  of  the  whiskey. 

Mort  could  not  keep  his  eyes  ofif  his  old  pal.  He  con- 
tinued to  laugh  and  cry  in  turn. 

"Come,  dry  up." 

"I  can't  help  it,  Mike." 

"Where  were  you  the  day  before  yesterday,  at  about 
five  in  the  evening?" 

"At  a  place  called  Glendive.  I  was  beating  my  way  on 
the  Great  Northern,  when  they  caught  me  and  made  me 
get  ofif.  So  I  walked  along  the  track  and  was  asking  the 
depot  man  and  two  or  three  other  people,  where  the  nearest 
mines  were,  as  I  wanted  work.     They  pointed  over  in  this 


488  AN   IMPORTANT   CAPTURE 

direction  and  told  me  the  'Full  House'  or  'FuV  Hand,'  I 
don't  know  which,  would  give  me  a  job.  It  was  too  late 
to  start  out  then,  so  I  slept  in  the  depot  that  night." 

"Good ;  you  see,  there's  been  an  attempted  robbery  of 
a  bank  some  miles  away  in  another  direction,  and  you've 
been  taken  as  a  suspect.  I  am  going  to  send  you  away, 
so  you  can  establish  an  alibi.  When  you  come  back,  I'll 
take  care  of  you.  If  they  ask  you  your  name,  tell  them 
they  call  you  Hank ;  nearly  every  one  out  here  goes  by 
their  first  name."  He  tapped  at  the  window  for  Bob 
Stringer,  who  came  in.  "Bob,  this  man  says  that  at  the 
time  of  the  attempted  robbery  of  the  bank  he  was  at  the 
Glendive  depot  inquiring  where  the  nearest  mine  was,  so 
that  he  might  get  employment.  If  that's  the  case,  of  course 
we  can't  hold  him.  You  take  him  and  a  couple  of  men 
with  you  and  find  out  if  he's  telling  the  truth.  If  he  is, 
let  him  go.  or  if  he  wants  to  come  back  with  you.  let  him 
come.  Perhaps  we  can  find  him  something  to  do.  You've 
already  nearly  scared  the  life  out  of  him,"  smiling  at 
Stringer ;  "so  let  us  try  and  make  some  amends." 

Henry  Alort  established  his  innocence  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  Bob  Stringer  and  his  fellow  deputies.  On  the  road 
back  they  took  him  into  Murry's.  each  of  his  escorts  per- 
sisting in  treating  him,  to  show  there  was  no  hard  feeling. 

Scully,  while  they  were  away,  knowing  in  advance  the 
result  of  their  investigation,  had  requested  Jerry  Smith  to 
give  him  a  job.  "Put  him  in  the  store  till  we  find  out  what 
he's  good  for." 

The  next  day  Scully  sent  out  for  the  new  man.  ^  He  was 
anxious  to  hear  the  news  about  his  former  associates  and 
others  he  remembered. 

Henry  Mort  first  told  him  of  the  fate  that  befell  Tony 
IMurphy.  then  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Great,  and  of  the  shoot- 
ing of  the  alderman. 

"Horrible!"  said  Scully,  who  could  hardly  suppress  his 
grief.  "What  have  they  done  with  the  woman  that  killed 
him?" 


AN    IMPORTANT   CAPTUKE  489 

"She's  awaiting  trial ;  she  pleaded  guilty.  They  say  she'll 
hang  for  it."" 

"What  kind  of  a  woman  was  she?" 

Alort  told  of  first  seeing  her  at  the  dance  that  had  been 
held  shortly  after  Scully  left  Chicago,  of  what  had  taken 
place  there ;  all  of  which  our  readers  are  familiar  with, 
then  of  the  picnic  and  how  Hart  had  abused  and  then  per- 
secuted the  girl,  until  she  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  alder- 
man, who  had  made  her  his  mistress. 

"She  was  likely  an  innocent  girl  until  Hart  met  her." 

"Sure ;  she  was  only  seventeen  and  a  beauty.  I  never 
saw  so  handsome  a  girl." 

"I  am  afraid  Hart  will  come  to  a  bad  end.  What  about 
Rock^" 

"You  knoAv  that  little  girl,  Margy,  he  used  to  pal  in 
with?" 

"Yes." 

"W^ell,  she  had  a  baby  and  Rock  discarded  her.  He  would 
have  ill-used  her  one  night  when  she  came  to  see  him  with 
the  child  in  her  arms,  who  is  a  dead  ringer  for  Rock,  onl\- 
I  wouldn't  stand  for  it." 

]\Iort  then  told  of  the  robbery  and  how  he  escaped. 

"You  don't  know,  then,  what  happened  to  the  other 
fellows,   Bert  and   Phipps?" 

"No.  only  feel  confident  Hart  must  have  shot  some  of 
the  policemen,  as  wdien  I  ran  along  the  porch  next  to  the 
house  we  were  in,  I  saw  Hart  fire  two  shots  at  the  police- 
man who  was  pursuing  him."' 

"W^ell,  how  did  you  get  away?" 

"I  ran  until  I  felt  I  wasn't  followed,  then  went  to  the 
house  w^here  I  w^as  staying.  I  had  a  little  money  in  my 
box,  and  seeing  the  prayer-book  I  took  out  of  your  trunk, 
I  put  it  in  my  pocket  as  a  souvenir.  I  knew  you  must 
have  overlooked  it  when  you  left.  I  felt  I  had  to  get  awa}" 
for  a  time,  and  I  had  no  sooner  got  out  of  the  house, — I 
wasn't  half  a  block  away — when  T  looked  back  and  saw 
three  men  going  into  the  house  I  had  just  left.  I  guessed 
they  were  after  me,  so  I  went  and  hid  under  the  Madison 


490  AN   IMPORTANT   CAPTURE 

Street  viaduct  until  the  mail  came  along,  when  I  jumped 
on  and  hid  back  of  the  tank,  and  beat  my  way  as  far  as 
St.  Paul,  where  I  thought  I  could  stay.  I  went  into  a 
restaurant  the  morning  after  I  arrived,  and  had  hardly  got 
seated  when  I  heard  two  men  talking  of  a  robbery  in  Chi- 
cago, and  some  one  being  killed,  and  how  the  leader  of  the 
gang  had  escaped,  but  that  the  police  were  on  his  track 
and  were  watching  all  the  railway  exits,  and  how  they  had 
sent  his  picture  to  all  the  leading  cities.  I  says  to  myself, 
'This  is  no  place  for  me,'  so  that  same  morning  I  got  on 
a  Great  Northern  freight  and  beat  it  out  of  St.  Paul.  It's 
taken  me  two  weeks  to  get  here.  I  have  been  driven  ofif 
trains  in  the  dead  of  the  night  and  have  gone  a  couple 
of  days  at  a  time  without  eating,  so  you  needn't  wonder 
that  when  your  men  captured  me  I  was  pretty  badly 
frightened." 

"Henry,  we  played  a  poor  game  when  we  were  young, 
I  hope  you've  had  enough  of  it  now,  if  you  have  the  luck 
to  escape." 

"Don't  you  think  I  had  better  make  for  the  mining 
district?    I  may  compromise  you  if  they  get  me  here." 

"No,  stay  where  you  are ;  let  your  beard  grow — you  have 
a  pretty  good  crop  already — don't  show  yourself  for  a  time. 
You  are  as  safe  here  as  anywhere.  What  became  of  Hooli- 
gan?" 

"He's  there  yet,  but  he  says  he'll  leave  as  soon  as  he 
has  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  woman  who  killed  the 
alderman  hung." 

"I  hope  he'll  be  disappointed — he's  a  low-down  turk.  You 
know  I  never  had  any  use  for  him." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  "Wait  a  moment,  till 
I  see  who  it  is." 

Scully  went  to  the  door.  In  a  moment  he  came  back 
and  whispered,  "It's  my  wife;  remember,  for  the  time  be- 
ing, you  don't  know  me.  Stay  at  the  store  and  make  your- 
self as  useful  as  you  can.  I  will  drop  in  during  the  day 
and  see  you.    Now  go." 


AN    IMPORTANT   CAPTURE  491 

Henry  Mort,  in  passing-  out,  saw  a  lady  with  a  baby  in 
her  arms,  waiting  to  get  into  the  room  he  had  just  left. 

"Is  that  the  prisoner  you  had?" 

"Yes,  it  was  a  mistake;  it  was  a  poor  fellow  that  was 
hunting  a  job.     I  have  put  him  to  work." 

"He  looks  like  a  pretty  tough  citizen." 

"Well,  if  you  had  met  me  when  T  was  hunting  work  in 
Denver  you  might  have  been  able  to  say  the  same  of  me." 

"I  hope  not,  you  surely  didn't  look  as  bad  as  that  fel- 
low," she  said,  smiling,  as  she  handed  the  child  into  his 
arms. 

"Wife,  how  would  you  like  to  take  a  trip  as  far  as  Chi- 
cago?" 

"Well,  it's  about  time  you  took  me  somewhere ;  I  would 
be  delighted." 

"Well,  you  see  we  never  could  afford  it  until  now,"  smil- 
ing at  her. 

"You  mean  you  never  had  the  time." 

"Maybe  that's  so.    Well,  I'll  think  it  over." 

That  same  day  Scully  wrote  to  the  Governor  of  Montana, 
stating  he  had  a  desire  to  visit  Chicago,  and  while  there 
wanted  to  study  their  penal  system  ;  'probably  would  like 
to  visit  some  of  the  jails  in  the  state  and  converse  with  the 

authorities.     "As  sheriff  of county  they  might  extend 

to  me  some  courtesies,  but  I  am  sure  letters  from  your 
excellency  would  aid  me  considerably,"  he  added. 

He  received  a  prompt  reply  from  the  Governor,  with  let- 
ters of  introduction,  stating  that  "the  bearer,  Mr.  Michael 

Scully,  sheriff  of county,  is  one  of  our  most  substantial 

citizens,  and  any  courtesy  that  you  could  extend  to  him 
would  be  highly  appreciated."  One  letter  in  particular  was 
addressed  to  the  governor  of  the  state  of  Illinois,  and  an- 
other to  the  mayor  of  the  city  of  Chicago,  with  a  promise 
to  each  that  if  they  should  honor  Montana  with  a  visit, 
"Myself  and  my  friend  Scully  would  see  that  they  would 
never  regret  it." 

Two  weeks   from   that  date,   a  heavy  set  man,   dressed 


492  MIKE   SCULLY   MEETS   FLORENCE   BURDETT 

ill  western  style,  and  a  well  dressed  lady,  registered  at  the 
Palmer  house. 

"We  want  three  rooms  on  the  parlor  floor,  front." 
The  clerk  looked  up  at  him.    "Yes,  sir,  we  can  accommo- 
date you." 


Chapter  L 

MIKE  SCULLY  MEETS  FLORENCE  BURDETT. 

The  day  following  Scully's  arrival  in  Chicago  was  spent 
in  visiting  the  points  of  interest  to  be  seen  in  the  city  of 
his  birth ;  with  him  his  wife  had  the  first  claim.  He  hired 
a  carriage  immediately  after  breakfast  and  gave  instruc- 
tions to  the  driver  to  drive  through  the  parks ;  he  was  de- 
termined that  she  should  see  the  bright  side  of  things  to 
begin  with.  That  afternoon  he  took  her  to  the  stockyards, 
a  place  he  knew  she  would  be  interested  in,  from  the  fact 
of  her  father's  calling,  and  at  night  he  took  her  to  the 
theatre.  After  the  play  was  over  he  took  her  to  supper 
at  one  of  the  popular  resorts,  where  she  was  surprised  at 
the  number  of  people  present  and  the  gayety  and  abandon 
of  many  of  the  extravagantly  dressed  women  who  were 
dining  with  their  escorts ;  it  all  seemed  new  to  her ;  another 
world,  as  it  were.  When  they  had  reached  their  rooms 
in  the  hotel  and  she  had  taken  ofif  her  wraps.  Mike,  looking 
affectionately  at  her  said,  "Virgie,  I  see  you  are  tired." 

"Yes,  but  I  have  had  a  pleasant  day.  It  is  grand ;  this 
is  surely  a  great  city.  Every  one  seems  so  ver}^  happy  and 
prosperous ;  no  wonder  country  life  seems  dull  to  the  people 
who  have  enjoyed  the  pleasures  of  a  metropolis." 

"But,  my  dear,  you  have  only  seen  the  bright  side  of 
life ;  you  may  change  your  opinion  when  you  see  more  of 
Chicago's  teeming,  struggling  population." 

"Well,  what  I  want  to  see,  above  all,  is  where  you  used 
to  live.  You  will  have  to  make  me  acquainted  with  some 
of  your  people." 


MIKE   SCULLY   MEETS    FLORENCE   BURDETT  493 

"I  am  afraid  I  would  lose  caste  with  you,  if  I  was  to 
introduce  you  to  some  of  them." 

She  smiled  into  his  face  as  she  quoted  the  text,  "Thy 
God  is  my  God,  thy  people  my  people." 

The  following-  day  Scully  and  his  wife  visited  the  business 
district,  going  into  some  of  the  department  stores,  where 
Mrs.  Scully  made  some  purchases.  The  following  morning 
Mike  told  her  to  rest  for  a  while,  he  would  be  gone  probably 
a  couple  of  hours.  He  was  desirous  to  make  some  in- 
quiries about  some  of  his  old  acquaintances. 

"Cannot  I  go  with  you?" 

"Yes,  if  you  like;  I  am  going  to  see  a  priest.  W^hile  I 
am  talking  to  him  you  can  stay  in  the  church." 

After  Scully  had  conducted  his  wife  into  the  sacred  edifice 
and  said  a  prayer,  he  whispered  into  her  ear,  "Content 
yourself  for  a  short  time.     I  won't  be  long." 

As  he  rang  the  bell  at  the  priest's  house  his  mind  re- 
verted back  to  the  day  he  had  rung  at  the  same  door  many 
years  ago ;  then,  with  an  anxiety  as  to  what  would  be  his 
reception,  he  inquired  if  Father  Nolan  was  in. 

"Yes,  sir,  step  in,  I  will  call  him." 

He  took  a  seat  in  the  little  anteroom.  Father  Nolan 
came  after  a  while  and  looked  at  his  visitor. 

"I  suppose  you  don't  remember  me?"  said  Mike,  rising. 

His  reverence  looked  at  him  for  a  moment.  "No,  I  can- 
not call  you  to  mind." 

"Well,  your  reverence,  it  is  some  time  since  I  met  you. 
and  then  under  peculiar  circumstances.  My  name  is 
Michael  Scully." 

"Scully,  Scully  ;  I  have  known  a  number  of  your  name, 
but  I  cannot  remember  you,"  looking  at  him. 

"Do  you  remember  the  occasion  of  the  fire,  when  the  two 
Murphys  were  burned,  on street?" 

"Yes,  I  know  you  now,"  grasping  his  hand.  "Where 
have  you  been  all  these  years?" 

Scully  gave  him  a  brief  history  of  his  experience  since 
he  last  met  him. 

"You  know  what  happened  the  poor  boy  you  rescued?" 


494  MIKE   SCULLY   MEETS   FLORENCE   BURDETT 

"Yes,  I  only  heard  of  it  about  a  month  ago." 

"Ah !  it  was  very  sad.  I  attended  him  until  his  last  mo- 
ments. Mrs.  Great,  Lord  have  mercy  on  her,  took  a  great 
interest  in  him — you  know  what  happened  her  unfortunate 
husband?" 

"Yes,  I  heard  that  from  the  same  source." 

"They  say  the  woman  who  killed  him  has  confessed 
everything  and  is  resigned  to  her  fate.  Some  say  she  is 
demented." 

"Your  reverence,  I  have  learned  something  of  the  history 
of  that  woman,  and  from  what  they  tell  me  she  has  been 
very  much  wronged.  She  was  a  victim  of  bad  men.  While 
I  am  here  in  Chicago  I  am  going  to  find  out  more  about 
her,  and  if  I  find  it  is  true,  as  I  have  been  informed,  I  will 
interest  myself  in  her  behalf." 

"Why,  what  is  she  to  you?" 

"Nothing;  I  have  never  seen  her,  nor  do  I  know  any  of 
her  relatives." 

"Well,  you  see,  Mr.  Scully,  she  is  not  of  our  people, 
and  of  course  we  have  little  information  about  her,  only 
that  she  led  a  sinful  life.  If,  however,  you  know  any  ex- 
tenuating circumstance,  I  will  not  try  to  persuade  you  from 
interfering;  but  you  must  be  careful,  as  public  sentiment 
is  bitterly  arrayed  against  her.  You  are  a  married  man 
and  have  a  family,  so  must  be  cautious.  It  would  never 
do  to  have  your  name  too  closely  linked  with  hers.  Where 
is  your  wife  now?" 

"She  is  in  the  church." 

"Then  you  must  introduce  me  to  her;  go  bring  her  in, 
I  will  wait  here  until  you  return." 

Scully  went  out  and  returned  with  his  wife,  whom  he 
introduced  to  the  kindly  priest. 

"Mrs.  Scully,  I  haven't  met  your  husband  in  some  years, 
but  I  know  him  to  be  a  brave,  good  man,  and  as  I  under- 
stand it  God  has  blessed  you  both.  He  deserved  it,  for  one 
act  in  his  life  if  for  no  other." 

Mrs.  Scully's  curiosity  was  aroused ;  she  looked  with  ad- 


MIKE   SCULLY   MEETS   FLORENCE   BURDETT  495 

miration  at  her  husband,  who  seemed  much  embarrassed 
at  hearing  the  priest's  kindly  eulogy. 

"How  long  do  you  intend  to  stay  in  Chicago?" 

"We  cannot  say,  I  understand  my  husband  has  many 
calls  to  make  and  some  business  to  transact,  and,  as  we 
have  never  been  away  from  home  together  before,  I  hope 
he  will  not  be  in  too  great  a  hurry  back." 

"Well,  you  must  come  and  see  me  again.  Where  are 
you  stopping?" 

"At  the  Palmer  House." 

"Then  perhaps  I  may  have  an  opportunity  to  call  upon 
you." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Scully  left  delighted  with  their  interview 
with  the  reverend  gentleman,  whose  parting  words  were 
"God  bless  you  both,"  as  he  shook  hands  with  them  at  the 
door. 

The  following  morning  Mike  announced  to  his  wife  he 
was  going  to  see  the  state's  attorney  and  the  sheriff. 

"Do  you  think  you  could  get  on  without  me  for  a  few 
hours?" 

"Yes,  sure;  I'll  go  shopping;  I  can  find  my  way." 

"Well,  take  care  you  don't  get  lost,"  Mike  said,  kissing 
her  as  he  left. 

Reaching  the  state's  attorney's  office,  as  soon  as  he 
showed  his  letters  of  introduction,  it  was  open  sesame.  The 
state's  attorney  was  desirous  of  learning  something  about 
Montana.  "You've  a  pretty  tough  crowd  out  there,  I  guess, 
fiom  what  we  hear?" 

"We're  not  so  bad  as  we're  painted.  Of  course,  we  have 
our  troubles  occasionally.  Some  of  your  fellows  pay  us  a 
visit,"  said  Mike,  laughing. 

"I  suppose  so;  well,  Mr.  Scully,  I  will  only  be  too  happy 
to  give  you  any  information  I  can.  By  the  way,  you  want 
to  see  the  sheriff — he's  in  the  same  building  with  us.  Wait 
till  I  call  him  up,  and  see  if  he  isn't  in." 

He  reached  for  the  telephone,  which  stood  on  his  desk, 
and,  finding  that  the  sheriff  was  in,  requested  him  to  come 


496  MIKE   SCULLY   MEETS   FLORENCE  BURDETT 

to  his  office.     "I  want  to  introduce  you  to  a  brother  sheriff 
all  the  way  from  Montana  who  has  come  to  see  you." 

"He's  coming,"  said  the  attorney,  turning  to  Mike.  In 
a  few  moments  the  sheriff  arrived,  and  was  formally  in- 
troduced, the  state's  attorney  handing  him  Scully's  letters 
of  introduction. 

"I'm  pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Scully,  and  hope  to  be  able 
some  day  to  accept  the  Governor's  invitation  to  visit  him." 
"Me,  too,"  chimed  in  the  state's  attorney. 
"Well,  if  you  do,  we'll  see  you  never  regret  it.  You'll 
find  our  people  very  hospitable,  and  we're  in  a  position  to 
take  good  care  of  you.  I  have  some  cigars — will  you  gentle- 
men smoke  with  me?" 

"Are  those  a  Montana  brand?"  remarked  the  sheriff  as  he 
was  helping  himself  to  one. 
"No,  I  got  them  since  I  came." 

"They're  all  right,  anyway,"  said  the  state's  attorney  as 
he  bleAv  a  cloud  of  smoke  toward  the  ceiling.  After  they 
had  chatted  some  time,  Scully  invited  them  to  come  over 
to  the  hotel  and  spend  an  evening  with  him. 

The  sheriff  remarked,  "Now,  Mr.  Scully,  as  you're  here, 
what  say  you  if  I  show  you  around  the  jail?" 

"I  would  be  very  much  pleased.  I  suppose  you  have  a 
full  house?" 

"Yes,  we're  never  short  of  guests." 

"That  was  a  great  bunch  you  sent  down  the  other  day," 
remarked  the  state's  attorney,  looking  at  the  sheriff. 

"Yes,  you  didn't  lose  much  time  over  that  West  Side 
gang,"  replied  the  sheriff,  addressing  the  state's  attorney, 
who  smiled  at  the  compliment. 

"What  had  they  been  doing?"  inquired  Mike. 
"Burglary.     One  fellow  was  shot,  one  got  ten  years,  one 
five,  and  two  others  two  each." 

"What  were  their  names,  perhaps  I  read  of  them?" 
"The  fellow  that  was  killed  was  named  Hart.     Rock  got 
ten  years,  a  youngster  by  the  name  of  Schultz  five,  and 
Bert  and  Phipps  got  two  years  each." 

Scully  could  hardly  suppress  his  feelings. 


MIKE   SCULLY    MEETS    FLORENCE   BURDETT  497 

"Well  they  were  a  bad  crowd,"  remarked  the  attorney, 
"Chicago's  well  rid  of  them." 

As  Scully  and  the  sheriff  of  Cook  county  entered  the 
prison  proper,  Mike,  addressing  him,  said,  "Do  you  know 
I'm  sorry  for  many  of  the  poor  unfortunates  you  have 
here?" 

"Sorry  nothing;  there  is  not  a  one  in  here  I'm  sorry  for, 
but  a  woman  we  have." 

"What  has  she  done?" 

"She  killed  one  of  our  aldermen — likely  you  heard  of  it?" 

"I  suppose  she's  a  very  coarse  woman  ?" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,"  turning  around  and  facing  Mike. 
"She's  a  lady.  I've  had  her  here  nearly  two  months,  she 
doesn't  care  what  they  do  with  her.  She's  held  over  to 
the  next  term  and  won't  be  tried  for  a  month.  All  her 
friends  seem  to  have  gone  back  on  her,  except  a  couple  of 
women." 

"What  chance  has  she?" 

"Very  poor;  you  see,  she  admitted  everything  as  soon  as 
they  got  her.  When  she  was  asked  to  plead  she  said, 
'Guilty,'  but  the  judge,  seeing  her  condition,  put  her  case 
off  until  the  next  term  and  refused  to  accept  her  plea." 

"That  was  surely  humane  of  him."    ' 

"It  would  have  been  an  outrage  if  he  had  done  anything 
else.    The  woman  was  demented  at  the  time." 

"Do  you  think  the  attorney  will  be  very  hard  against 
her?" 

The  sheriff  stood  and  in  a  very  low  voice  said,  "You 
see,  the  attorney  is  a  pretty  good  fellow,  but  he  is  a  poli- 
tician and  wants  to  make  a  record  for  himself,  and,  as  all 
the  politicians  are  against  this  woman,  he's  going  to  rap 
her  as  hard  as  he  can.  He  tells  me  nothing  will  satisfy  him 
but  to  hang  her." 

"That's  too  bad;  has  she  good  lawyers?" 

"No,  a  couple  of  dubs ;  but  you  see  she  doesn't  want  any 
lawyers,  she  says  she  has  nothing  to  live  for.  She  doesn't 
like  visitors,  but  I'm  going  to  take  you  over  and  show  her 
to  you/' 


498  MIKE   SCULLY   MEETS   FLORENCE  BURDETT 

As  Mike  entered  the  women's  department  in  the  county 
jail  he  was  ver}^  much  surprised  to  see  the  class  ol  women 
that  was  there,  the  mark  of  total  depravity  was  stamped  on 
the  faces  of  many  of  them,  big  coarse  colored  women 
among  them. 

"Is  the  woman  we  come  to  see  among  those?" 

"No,  she  never  fraternizes  with  any  of  them,  in  fact  she 
doesn't  care  to  leave  her  cell.  I  have  to  force  her  out  to 
take  exercise ;  she  is  constantly  brooding  over  her  trouble." 

The  cell  in  which  Florence  was  confined  was  on  the 
second  tier.  As  they  reached  it  the  sheriff  said,  "Good 
morning,  Miss  Burdett.     How  are  you  this  morning?" 

"I  can't  say  I  feel  well — I  don't  sleep." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,  probably  I  should  have 
our  doctor  call  and  see  you." 

"I  don't  think  he  would  do  me  any  good." 

"Well,  if  you  would  like  him  to  see  you.  let  me  know." 

Mike  stood  looking  at  her  in  wonder,  her  thin  pale  face 
still  beautiful.  The  contrast  in  appearance  between  her 
and  the  vulgar  set  he  had  seen  below  made  his  impression 
of  her  more  profound.  She  hardly  noticed  him.  Dressed 
in  black,  her  hair  parted  in  the  center  was  combed  back, 
showing  a  splendid  forehead,  her  eyes  were  bright,  he 
couldn't  discern  a  trace  of  the  vulgar,  sensual  woman  in  her. 
She  seemed  languid,  and  showed  a  lack  of  desire  to  con- 
verse with  her  visitors. 

"Miss  Burdett.  this  is  a  friend  of  mine  from  the  far  West 
who  is  visiting  me.  I  am  showing  him  through  the  place. 
I  don't  want  you  to  think,  however,  I  am  bringing  him  here 
to  see  you  through  idle  curiosity." 

"This  is  hardly  the  place  to  receive  visitors,  Mr.  Sheriff, 
so  I  hope  the  gentleman  will  not  think  me  discourteous." 

"I  assure  you.  madam."  said  Mike,  "I  feel  deeply  for  your 
position,  and  my  onl}^  hope  is  I  can  do  something  for  you." 

She  shook  her  head.  "It  is  very  kind  of  you,  sir.  Under 
other  circumstances  I  would  appreciate  your  good  will,  but 
I  am  afraid  it  is  not  in  your  power  to  render  me  any  service. 
I  am  satisfied  as  I  am." 


MIKE   SCULLY    MEETS   FLORENCE   BURDETT  499 

"Ah,  you  mustn't  talk  that  way,"  replied  the  sherilT. 
"You're  a  young-  woman  yet.     You  mustn't  lose  hope." 

"You  still  have  friends,"  chimed  in  Scully,  "and  I  am  sure 
they  will  not  desert  you." 

"Very  few  ;  I  one  time  had  lots  of  friends,  but  now  you 
see  things  have  changed." 

"Well,  this  gentleman,"  referring  to  the  sheriff,  "is  your 
friend  anyhow,  and  speaks  well  of  you." 

"It  is  very  kind  of  him,"  looking  up  into  the  face  of  her 
custodian.  "He  has  been  as  good  to  me  as  his  duty  would 
allow,  and  I  am  very  thankful  to  him." 

Mike  could  see  that  the  interview  was  not  very  agreeable 
to  her,  so  wanted  to  make  it  brief. 

"Miss  Burdett,  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  very  despondent. 
Now.  I  feel  an  interest  in  you,  and  I  hope  you  will  not 
think  it  officiousness  on  my  part  if  I  take  sides  with  you  in 
this  case.  I  am  somewhat  of  a  busy-body,  anyhow — I  can't 
help  it."  She  looked  earnestly  at  him  for  some  moments 
without  replying.  "I  hope  you  won't  think  it  bad  taste  on 
my  part  if  I  come  to  see  you  again  and  bring  a  lady  with 
me.  I  know  she  would  like  to  see  you  with  the  best  and 
sincerest  of  motives,"  Mike  continued. 

"Who  is  she?" 

"My  wife." 

"I  don't  think  you  should  bring  your  wife  to  this  place, 
there  is  nothing  here  that  is  edifying.  There  are  some 
females  who  come  here  and  talk  to  unfortunates  like  my- 
self, tell  us  how  bad  Ave  are  and  how  we  should  change. 
They  leave  us  some  tracts  and  think  they  have  done  us  a 
great  service ;  but  their  sympathy  is  only  of  a  professional 
character,  often  to  gratify  their  curiosity,  or  to  have  them- 
seh-es  considered  philanthropists  is  their  only  purpose." 

"I  assure  you,  Miss  Burdett,  my  wife  will  have  no  such 
object  in  view." 

"Well,  I  am  not  a  free  agent;  the  sheriff  arranges  the 
receptions,  and  there  is  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  but  receive 
whomsoever  he  chooses  to  bring." 

"Now,  Miss  Burdett,"  remarked  the  sheriff',  warmly,  "I 


500  MIKE   SCULLY    MEETS    FLORENCE   BURDETT 

don't  think  you  should  talk  that  way,  I  never  permit  any  one 
to  see  you  only  those  who  I  know  are  friendly  to  you.  I  have 
had  some  pretty  big-  people  ask  to  see  you,  and  I  have  said, 
'No,  she  doesn't  want  to  see  you  or  any  one  else,'  and  if  you 
don't  want  Miss  Vann  to  visit  you,  I  won't  let  her  in, either." 

"No,  don't  refuse  Miss  V^ann ;  she's  the  only  sincere  friend 
I  have  left." 

"Well,  what  about  that  Jenkins  woman?" 

"Poor  Margy ;  let  her  come,  too ;  she  can't  come  often." 

"Well,  when  she  does  come  she  stays  till  we  have  to  put 
her  out." 

"Yes,  she,  like  myself,  has  had  her  experience,"  turning 
to  Mike;  "If  you  would  like  your  wife  to  come  and  see  me, 
then  let  her  come.     I  am  satisfied  your  intentions  are  good." 

Mike  Scully  put  his  big  honest  hand  through  the  bars, 
Florence  placed  her's  in  it. 

"Keep  your  heart  up.  Miss  Burdett,"  he  said,  as  he  was 
leaving. 

She  smiled  a  sickly  smile  as  she  looked  .into  his  honest, 
sympathetic  face. 

"What  do  you  think  about  her?"  said  the  Cook  County 
official,  after  they  had  got  out  of  her  hearing. 

"I  think  she's  been  a  victim  of  circumstances,  probably 
more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  I  am  going  to  some  of 
her  friends.    Who  is  that  Miss  Vann  I  heard  you  mention?" 

"She's  forelady  in  one  of  our  large  stores,  the  Cleveland 
store,  they  call  it.    You'll  have  no  trouble  to  locate  her." 

That  night  Mike  Scully  told  his  wife  of  his  experience 
of  the  day,  and  gave  her  a  little  of  Florence  Burdett's  his- 
tory, w^hich  he  had  learned  from  Henry  Mort,  without  tell- 
ing her  from  whom  he  had  got  it. 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  poor  thing.  I  am  sure  it  was 
very  sad ;  and  she  so  young.  But  you  know,  Mike,  the  tak- 
ing of  human  life  is  terrible." 

"Sometimes  justifiable,"  was  Mike's  reply. 


PREPARING  THE  DEFENSE  501 

Chapter  LI. 

PREPARING  THE  DEFENSE. 

The  day  after  Scully's  interview  with  Florence  Burdett 
he  decided  to  call  on  Mary  Vann.  His  inquiry  led  him  to 
the  floor  on  which  the  millinery  department  was  situated  ; 
he  observed  a  woman  trying  a  hat  on  a  prospective  cus- 
tomer and  judged  she  was  the  woman  he  sought.  When 
the  customer  retired  he  went  over  and  addressed  her. 

"You  are  Miss  Vann,  I  presume?" 

"Yes,  sir.    What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"Well,  I  was  over  in  the  county  jail  yesterday  and  met  a 
woman  whom,  I  understand,  you  are  well  acquainted  with 
— she  is  in  trouble — I  mean  Miss  Burdett." 

"Are  you  a  lawyer?"  inquired  Mary,  eyeing  him  critically. 

"No,  but  I  have  learned  something  of  that  young  woman's 
early  history  and  have  a  deep  sympathy  for  her." 

"Well,  that's  very  kind  of  you  ;  but  I  don't  see  how  you 
can  help  her.    How  did  you.  learn  that  I  knew  her?" 

"The  sheriff  mentioned  your  name  in  my  presence  and  I 
heard  her  say  that  you  were  about  the  only  friend  she  had 
left." 

"Yes,  I  am  still  her  friend,  but  you  see  no  one  can  do 
much  for  her.  I  have  visited  her  many  times  and  advised 
with  her  to  no  purpose.  She  is  resigned,  and  don't  care 
what  they  do  with  her.  As  soon  as  the  affair  happened 
with  which  she  is  charged,  I  immediately  set  about  doing 
what  I  could.  I  saw  that  the  police  took  charge  of  her 
property  and  got  a  list  of  her  valuables.  I  also  consulted  a 
law  firm,  but  she  goes  and  pleads  guilty — so  what  could 
they  do?  She  says  she  killed  him  and  is  willing  to  suffer 
for  it.  I  have  asked  her  repeatedly  to  brace  up  and  show 
fight,  but  she  won't,  so  there  you  are." 

"What  do  her  relatives  say?" 

"You  see,  they  have  been  estranged  for  years.  Her 
grandfather  and  grandmother  are  very  old  people  and  she 
has  an  aunt  and  two  uncles.     Herman  Wosta  is  the  head 


502  PREPARING   THE  DEFENSE 

of  the  family,  he  is  very  bitter  against  her,  there  is  hardly 
any  use  of  talking  to  him.  As  for  acquaintances,  those  she 
came  in  contact  with  for  the  past  few  years  were  all  friends 
of  the  alderman  and  are  against  her,  and  those  who  knew 
her  parents  when  she  was  a  girl  all  sympathize  with  the 
Wostas,  that's  her  mother's  people;  so  you  may  say  she's 
deserted." 

"Well,  you  know  a  good  deal  of  her  early  history?" 

"Yes,  this  is  the  first  place  she  ever  worked ;  but  it  is  too 
long  a  story  to  tell  you  here.     You  live  in  Chicago?" 

"No;  Montana." 

"Indeed!  how  long  are  you  going  to  stay  in  the  city?" 

"Likely  until  after  this  trial." 

"Well,  if  we  can  arrange  an  interview  some  evening  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  know.     It's  a  sad  story." 

"Who  is  this  woman  Jenkins?" 

"She  used  to  work  here  at  the  same  time  as  Florence. 
She  was  another  unfortunate,  but  she  has  braced  up  con- 
siderably the  last  few  years.    You  may  have  to  see  her." 

"Well,  I  will  call  in  in  a  day  or  two  and  talk  further  with 
you.    Who  are  the  lawyers  you  have?" 

"Relgeiz  and  Nomolos ;  they're  on  State  Street." 

"I'll  call  and  see  them.    I  bid  you  good  morning." 

The  firm  of  Relgeiz  and  Nomolos  cared  more  for  fees 
than  reputation.  They  hung  around  the  police  courts  trying 
petty  cases  and  getting  pointers  as  to  events  that  might 
furnish  them  clients.  Learning  of  a  prospective  case  they 
sought  out  the  friends  of  the  party  in  trouble  and  offered 
their  services.  Whenever  they  secured  the  promise  of  a 
case  they  relied  upon  legal  etiquette  to  keep  other  lawyers 
from  "butting  in." 

Mary  Vann,  shrewd  woman  as  she  was,  had  listened  to 
their  plea  and  entrusted  Florence  Burdett's  case  to  their 
hands. 

When  Mike  Scully  called  at  their  office  he  found  them 
both  in.  He  informed  them  of  his  business,  he  was  inter- 
ested in  one  of  their  clients.  Miss  Burdett. 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Relgeiz.    "Are  you  a  relative?" 


PREPARING  THE  DEFENSE  503 

"No,  merely  a  friend." 

"Well,  you  see,"  said  Nomolos,  "it's  a  bad  case;  there's 
little  ground  for  a  dispute  that  she  killed  him — in  fact,  she 
admits  it.  There  are  a  number  of  witnesses  on  the  side  of 
the  prosecution,  they  have  a  strong  case  against  her.  The 
best  we  can  expect  is  to  secure  clemency — there  is  hardly 
a  defense."  After  some  further  conversation,  Scully  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  they  wouldn't  do.  Returning  to  the 
hotel  he  told  his  wife  of  what  he  had  been  doing,  and  then 
spent  the  afternoon  and  evening  showing  her  around.  The 
following  morning  they  both  set  out  for  the  county  jail. 
The  sheriff  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Scully,  the  former  pro- 
fessing pleasure  in  meeting  her.  "I  suppose  you  have  come 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  some  of  my  boarders?"  he  said 
jokingly. 

"Yes,  I  have  come  to  see  Miss  Burdett." 

"Well,  I  ami  afraid  you  won't  find  her  much  of  an  enter- 
tainer;  but  come  along." 

As  they  passed  through  the  women's  quarters  all  eyes 
were  on  her.  She  felt  embarrassed  at  the  rude  stare  of  the 
coarse  females  she  saw  and  the  opening,  closing  and  clang- 
ing of  gates  made  her  nervous.  Reaching  the  cell  in  which 
Florence  was  confined  it  was  a  great  retief  to  her  to  see  one 
sweet-faced  woman. 

"Well,  Miss  Burdett,"  said  the  sheriff,  "this  is  the  lady 
who  is  desirous  of  meeting  you ;  of  course,  you  have  met  her 
husband  before." 

Scully  extended  his  hand.  "Good-day,  Miss  Burdett, 
this  is  my  wife." 

The  women  exchanged  looks.  Mrs.  Scully  smiled  and 
extended  her  hand.     Florence  shook  hands  with  her. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  am  pleased  to  meet  you,  Mrs.  Scully 
— I  advised  your  husband  not  to  bring  you." 

"Well,  T  am  glad  I  came ;  I  have,  however,  only  one  ob- 
ject in  coming  and  that  is  to  sympathize  with  and  try  to 
comfort  you." 

"Here,  John,"  said  the  sheriff,  to  one  of  the  turnkeys, 
"open  this  door  and  let  this  lady  in.     Now,  Scully,  we'll 


504  PREPARING  THE  DEFENSE 

leave  the  women  alone  and  I'll  take  you  around  and  intro- 
duce you  to  some  of  my  distinguished  guests.'" 

Mrs.  Scully  seated  herself  on  the  cot.  She  looked  around 
at  the  dismal  surroundings  and  felt  embarrassed  as  to  how- 
she  should  begin.  Miss  Burdett  noticed  it.  "You're  from 
Montana,  I  understand,  and  that  this  is  your  first  visit  to 
Chicago.     How  do  you  like  it,  as  far  as  you've  seen?" 

"Until  I  came  to  this  dreadful  place  I  thought  everything 
very  nice." 

"Well,  I  thought  your  husband  was  foolish  to  bring  you 
here ;  it  is  apt  to  produce  an  unfavorable  impression." 

"O,  you  see,  my  husband  used  to  live  in  this  city,  and  it 
seems  used  to  know  some  of  the  people  you  know  and  has 
interested  himself  in  your  case." 

"It's  very  kind  of  him,  but  I  am  afraid  his  labor  in  my 
behalf  will  be  in  vain." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  my  husband  never  fails." 

Florence  smiled.    "You  have  a  family,  Mrs.  Scully?" 

"We  have  four  children,  two  boys  and  two  girls." 

"And  a  nice  home,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  we  have  a  large  place ;  my  father  is  one  of  the 
wealthiest  men  in  Montana  and  I  am  his  only  child." 

"How  did  you  come  to  meet  Mr.  Scully,  then?" 

Mrs.  Scully  told  her  love  story  and  her  early  history  in  a 
manner  that  impressed  Florence ;  how,  as  a  girl,  she  was 
brought  up  amongst  rough  men  until  she  was  sent  to  the 
convent  school. 

"And  none  of  them  ever  tried  to  wrong  you?" 

"No,  they  were  rough  and  uncouth,  but  to  me  they  were 
always  respectful." 

Poor  Florence  thought  of  her  own  experience  with  men 
who  were  neither  rough  nor  uncouth,  simply  vile. 

An  hour  had  been  spent  in  pleasant  conversation,  when, 
as  Mrs.  Scully  was  about  to  leave,  Florence,  looking  at  her, 
said,  "I  thought  you  came,  like  the  rest  of  the  women  who 
visit  this  place,  to  pry  into  my  history,  to  find  my  failings, 
and  to  advise  with  me  as  to  my  future  conduct." 

"No,    Miss    Burdett.      I    sympathize    with   you    in   your 


PREPARING  THE  DEFENSE  505 

trouble,  but  want  to  know  nothing  e>f  you  but  what  you 
yourself  desire  to  tell." 

''\\^ell.  come  and  see  me  again  ;  the  next  time  I  may  be 
more  communicative." 

Mrs.  Scully  kissed  her  affectionately  at  the  parting,  while 
a  tear  could  be  seen  in  her  eye.  Florence  noticed  it.  She 
felt  at  least  she  had  one  good  virtuous  woman  who  felt  for 
her  and  sympathized  with  her  in  her  hour  of  adversity. 
Scull}^  had  spent  the  time  with  the  sheriff,  visiting  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  jail  and  being  introduced  to  some  of  the 
noted  criminals. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  woman  you  have  been 
visiting?"  remarked  the  sheriff',  as  they  sat  in  his  office. 

"I  am  very  much  surprised,  she  seems  a  very  ladylike 
person." 

"You  didn't  find  her  very  communicative,  I  suppose?" 

"No,  I  didn't  ask  her  anything  about  herself,  but  she  told 
me  to  come  again." 

"She  did,  did  she?  Well,  you're  an  exception.  I  wish 
she  would  thaw  out  a  little — if  she  did,  perhaps  something 
could  be  done  for  her.  You  can  come  and  see  her  when- 
ever you  like,  Mrs.  Scully.  I  will  write  you  out  a  pass, 
probably  your  husband  will  not  be  able  to  accompany  you 
at  all  times." 

"Who  is  a  good  criminal  lawyer?"  inquired  Scully  of  the 
sheriff". 

"There  are  a  number  of  them,"  mentioning  six,  among 
others  T.  B.  King. 

Scully  remembered  the  name  as  that  of  a  man  who  had 
given  him  his  card  the  night  of  the  fire.  "Is  King  very 
good?" 

"Among  the  best  in  the  country.  He's  a  good  citizen, 
too.  You  can  rely  upon  what  he  says  if  you  want  to  con- 
sult him." 

Scully  called  upon  King  the  next  day.  He  introduced 
himself  and  referred  to  their  first  meeting. 

King  shook  hands  warmly  with  him.    "Glad  to  meet  you, 


506  PREPARING   THE  DEFENSE 

Scully,  I  remember  the  whole  affair.  I  also  know  what  be- 
came of  the  boy ;  it  was  a  bad  business." 

"Well,  what  I  came  to  consult  you  about,  Mr.  King,  is  in 
reference  to  a  woman  who  is  confined  in  the  jail  for  killing 
an  alderman.  I  know  some  of  the  circumstances  of  her 
early  life  and  have  resolved  to  help  her  if  I  can." 

"I  understand  she  has  a  firm  of  lawyers  attending  to  her 
case  already,"  remarked  King. 

"Yes,  but  I  am  not  satisfied  with  them  and  am  determined 
to  secure  other  counsel ;  and  as  you're  the  onl}'  one  I  know 
I  Avant  you  to  take  care  of  the  case." 

"Well,  you  see,  Mr.  Scully,  unless  I  had  entire  charge,  and 
the  other  two  gentlemen  would  waive  their  leadership  in 
the  matter,  I  could  hardly  do  it.  Probably,  however,  they 
would  be  glad  to  know  I  was  retained.  I  will  call  them  in 
if  you  like?" 

"Do  so;  as  far  as  the  legal  fees  are  concerned,  I  am  a 
lesponsible  man,  3'ou  can  draw  on  me  for  what  3^ou  think 
right.  I  have  letters  of  introduction  from  the  governor  of 
my  state  to  the  governor  of  Illinois,  and  will  probably  be 
away  for  a  few  days ;  in  the  meantime  3'ou  find  out  what 
you  can." 

Mrs.  Scully  visited  Florence  nearly  every  day.  A  warm 
friendship,  sprang  up  between  them ;  the  chill  began  to  wear 
off  Florence.  She  began  to  hope,  and  at  length  she  told  her 
story  to  the  woman  Avho  had  shown  such  unselfish  regard 
for  her.  She  told  how  her  father  had  lost  his  life,  her 
mother's  struggle  to  earn  a  living  for  them,  of  her  going 
to  work  at  the  Cleveland  store,  of  her  unfortunate  meeting 
with  Hart  and  its  fateful  consequences,  of  the  picnic  where 
he  had  led  her  away  from  her  friends,  of  his  terrorizing  her 
by  his  threats  of  exposure,  of  his  being  sent  away  and  of 
his  returning,  and  of  the  treacherv  of  the  man  whom  she 
killed. 

The  recital  of  this  terrible  story  so  affected  Mrs.  Scully 
that  she  wept  bitterly.  She  and  Florence  mingled  their 
tears,  the  first  the  guilty  woman  had  shed  for  months. 

"You  have  been  a  victim,  Miss  Burdett,  and,  if  my  fortune 


PREPARING  THE  DEFENSE  507 

can  prevent  it,  you'll  not  be  a  sacrifice,"  said  Virgie,  during 
their  interview. 

Mrs.  Scully's  words  began  to  infuse  new  life  into  her 
unfortunate  friend.  That  night  Mrs.  Scully  returned  to 
the  hotel  sick  at  heart.  "It  was  frightful,"  she  exclaimed, 
"how  that  poor  girl  has  been  wronged.  I  want  you  to  use 
every  effort  you  can  ;  spare  neither  time  nor  money  ;  never 
mind  me,  I  have  seen  enough  of  Chicago  and  am  anxious  to 
get  away,  but  not  until  that  poor  woman  has  justice  done 
her." 

Attorney  King  had  a  conference  over  the  case  with  Rel- 
geiz  and  Nomolos,  who  agreed  that  he  should  have  entire 
charge  as  senior  counsel,  they  promising  to  give  such  assist- 
ance as  he  might  require  of  them. 

A  conference  was  immediately  called  at  which  King, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Scully  and  Mary  Vann  were  present. 

"It  is  more  than  likely  that  the  state's  attorney  will 
assail  her  previous  character  for  the  purpose  of  injuring 
her  in  the  eyes  of  the  jury.  What  do  you  know  about  her, 
Miss  Vann?" 

Mary  told  what  she  knew. 

"Yours  is  merely  hearsay  evidence.  It  might  be  intro- 
duced, however,  as  corroborative  testimony — we'll  see." 

"There  is  that  fellow  Rock,  who  is  now  in  Joliet — he  is 
familiar  with  the  first  episode,  and  Margaret  Jenkins,  too," 
said  Mary.    "Probably  their  evidence  might  be  more  direct." 

"Yes,  that's  so,"  remarked  the  attorney.  "I  will  have  to 
see  the  Jenkins  woman ;  as  for  Rock,  I  would  be  a  little 
dubious.  Who  is  likely  to  know  about  her  first  indiscretion 
with  the  alderman?" 

Mary  told  King  of  the  interview  they  had  at  the  police 
station  when  they  first  missed  her.  and  how  an  officer  by 
the  name  of  McCarthy  had  located  them.  "He  probably 
knows  the  facts." 

At  the  close  of  the  conference  Scully  asked  King  what 
he  thought  of  it.  "We'll  pull  her  through  ;  but  let  every  one 
hold  their  own  counsel — we  have  a  rod  in  pickle  for  them." 


508  PREPARING   THE  DEFENSE 

Mrs.  Scully  was  highly  elated.  "The  poor  woman  is  now 
more  reasonable,"  she  remarked. 

"That's  good,"  rejoined  King.  "It  is  up  to  you.  Mrs. 
Scully,  to  see  her  and  brace  her  up.  There  is  one  good 
thing,  they  can't  use  the  evidence  of  Hart  against  her — 
he's  got  his  reward  already.  I  understand  he  was  a  desper- 
ate character  and  would  be  only  too  willing  to  swear  her 
life  away  if  he  was  living." 

King  had  Margy  call.  "I  know  of  the  whole  affair,  I  was 
there  at  the  time." 

"Well,  it's  likely  the  attorney  will  be  very  hard  on  you. 
but  you  mustn't  lose  your  temper  while  on  the  stand.  Look 
at  me — if  I  object,  don't  you  say  a  word  until  the  court 
rules.  What  about  Rock?  How  do  you  think  he  would 
stand?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  visited  him  twice  while  he  was  in  jail, 
but  I  never  spoke  to  him  about  Florence." 

Scully  told  King  of  an  interview  he  had  had  with  the 
governor  of  the  state,  who  had  treated  him  very  courteously 
and  had  given  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  wardens 
of  the  state  penitentiaries,  requesting  them  to  give  Mr. 
Scully  any  information  they  had  as  to  the  running  of  the 
institutions  under  their  charge,  and  to  allow  him  to  inter- 
view such  prisoners  as  he  might  desire. 

"Good.  We  may  want  to  have  a  talk  with  that  fellow 
Rock.     Do  you  think  he'd  know  you?" 

"I  don't  believe  he  would." 

"Well,  you  go  down  and  talk  with  him.  Let  him  know 
you  stand  Avell  with  the  governor.  Ten  years  is  a  long  time, 
and  as  soon  as  those  fellows  get  in,  they  immediately  com- 
mence to  think  how  they  are  going  to  get  out." 

The  warden  of  the  penitentiary,  after  seeing  the  letter 
from  the  governor,  received  Scully  with  marked  respect. 

"Pleased  to  render  you  any  services- or  furnish  you  with 
any  information  as  to  the  management  of  this  institution, 
Mr.  Scully,"  he  said. 

"I  may  have  to  come  and  spend  a  day  or  two  here.    What 


PREPARING  THE  DEFENSE  509 

I  want  for  the  present  is  to  interview  a  person  by  the  name 
of  Rock  who  came  recently." 

"I  think  he  is  in  this  batch  coming  this  way,"  remarked 
the  warden,  referring  to  a  number  of  convicts  who  were 
coming  toward  them  in  charge  of  a  deputy.  They  were 
doing  the  lock  step,  the  prisoners  having  their  hands  rest- 
ing on  the  shoulders  of  the  men  in  front  of  them.  As  they 
came  opposite  Scully,  the  warden  shouted,  "Halt!  Atten- 
tion 3763,  two  paces  to  the  right."  Rock  (for  that  was  his 
number)  fell  out  of  line.  "Take  this  man  to  my  office," 
was  the  instructions  the  warden  gave  to  another  deputy, 
who  stood  by.  The  others  of  the  line  were  again  formed 
and  the  word  given  to  march. 

Scully  and  the  warden  followed  Rock  and  the  deputy 
when  they  entered  the  office,  and  the  warden,  addressing 
the  prisoner,  said,  "This  gentleman  wants  to  talk  to  you 
about  some  matter ;  it  may  prove  to  your  interest  if  you 
tell  him  the  entire  truth  of  the  circumstances  about  which 
he  wants  the  information."  Rock  nodded.  The  warden 
and  deputy  retired. 

Scully  looked  at  his  old  associate — he  was  the  same  old 
Rock,  his  hard,  cruel  features  enlivened  by  the  same  old 
grin. 

"Your  name  is  Rock,  T  believe?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  I  may  be  in  a  position  to  serve  you  if  you  give 
me  the  information  I  desire.  You  were  acquainted  with  a 
person  by  the  name  of  Hart?" 

"Yes,  we  were  pals  and  roomed  together." 

"You  knew  the  girl,  Florence  Burdett,  that  he  used  to 
go  with?" 

"Yes,  I  saw  her  a  few  times." 

"You  were  there  at  their  first  meeting,  you  and  a  young 
woman  by  the  name  of  Jenkins?" 

"Yes  ;  but  what  am  I  going  to  get  out  of  this?" 

"That  will  depend  on  your  willingness  to  tell  the  whole 
truth.    You  know  her  present  circumstances?" 

"Yes.  she  is  going  to  be  hung  for  killing  the  alderman." 


510  PREPARING   THE  DEFENSE 

"Maybe  not;  but  what  I  want  to  see  you  about,  and  get 
your  opinion  on,  was  she  a  good  character  before  she  met 
Hart?" 

"Well,  as  she's  dead  up  against  it,  like  myself,  I  may  as 
well  tell  you  the  truth.  She  was ;  but  if  Hart  had  been 
living  you'd  never  have  gotten  me  to  peach  on  him,  he  was 
my  pal." 

"Well,  we  hear  that  he  outraged  her  in  a  wineroom  on 
the  night  a  dance  was  held  on  the  west  side  of  Chicago  and 
on  another  occasion  he  led  her  away  during  a  picnic  that 
was  being  held  by  the  employes  of  the  store  she  worked  in." 

"You  seem  to  know  all  about  it?"  grinning.  "Why  do 
you  come  to  ask  me?  I  suppose  Margy  has  been  telling 
you  ?" 

"No,  I  have  never  met  that  young  woman,  but  you  see  I 
am  fairly  well  posted.  What  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  cor- 
roborate the  story  in  the  presence  of  a  witness." 

"I'll  do  it ;  if  you  think  it  will  do  me  any  good." 

"I  don't  want  to  make  you  any  promise,  but  you  can  feel 
assured  if  your  story  is  freely  told,  fully  and  honestly,  you 
will  secure  the  good  will  of  influential  parties  that  will  try 
and  aid  you.  I  will  be  here  again  in  a  few  days,  so  jog  your 
memory  and  don't  hide  any  of  the  facts." 

"I'll  make  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  afifair.  If  you 
should  happen  to  see  Margy  and  the  kid,  tell  her  if  ever  I 
get  out  of  here  I'll  try  and  do  better  in  the  future." 

Mike  shook  hands  with  him.  and  after  he  was  led  back 
to  his  cell  the  warden  came  into  his  office. 

"Well,  Mr.  Scully,  how  did  you  get  on  with  him?" 

"Fairly  well,  but  I  will  have  to  see  him  again  and  will 
probably  bring  some  one  with  me.  I  should  like  you  in  the 
meantime  to  grant  him  any  little  privileges  you  can,  so  as 
to  impress  him  with,  the  idea  that  he  has  a  friend  in  court, 
and  above  all  don't  mention  my  name  to  him." 

The  following  day  Scully  reported  to  King. 

"You  did  well,  Scully.  I'll  send  down  a  man  with  you 
the  next  time  you  go,  and,  since  you've  made  such  a  good 


PREPARING  THE  DEFENSE  511 

job  of  it,  I  suggest  you  go  see  McCarthy.  He's  at  Hyde 
Park — you  know  the  place?" 

"Yes,  I  can  find  him." 

The  same  day  he  set  out  to  interview  McCarthy.  On 
arriving  at  the  police  station  he  found  him  in.  McCarthy 
was  only  too  glad  to  aid  him.  "I  will  do  anything  in  my 
power,"  said  the  good-hearted  Irishman.  "She  was  a  victim 
of  a  gang  of  thieves,  whom  the  fellow  she  shot  always  took 
care  of.  I  investigated  the  case  the  time  the  alderman 
took  her  away,  knew  where  they  dined  and  the  amount  of 
wine  he  plied  her  with.  I  was  talking  to  the  fellow  that 
served  them  at  the  table.  He  told  me  Great  doped  her 
with  champagne  till  she  could  hardly  stand,  and  from  what 
he  could  hear,  she  had  no  notion  of  going  away  with  him. 
I  have  told  that  plug  of  a  Dutchman,  her  uncle,  but  he 
says  she  was  bad  before  the  alderman  ever  met  her.  He 
talked  about  his  sister  and  the  disgrace  she  brought  to  the 
family ;  he  makes  me  mad  sometimes." 

"Do  you  think  that  I  could  see  him?" 

"I  don't  know  that  it  will  do  you  any  good — he  will  be  in 
in  about  an  hour,  then  we'll  both  talk  to  him." 

"Well,  I'll  wait." 

When  Wosta  arrived  McCarthy  introduced  Scully  of 
Montana  to  him.    "Pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Scully." 

"Perhaps  when  you  know  my  mission  you  won't  be  so 
glad  to  meet  me." 

"O,  I  don't  know  any  reason  why  I  should  change  my 
mind,"  smiling. 

"Well,  I  came  to  talk  to  you  about  your  niece." 

"Ah!  that's  it,  is  it?  Well.  I  have  heard  enough  of  her 
already  and  don't  want  to  hear  any  more." 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  hear  some  more.  I  know  she  is  a 
terribly  wronged  woman,  and  when  you  know  the  entire 
facts  you  will  say  so  too." 

"I  think  I  know  the  facts  in  the  case  as  well  as  you." 

"In  that  you're  mistaken;  you  only  think  so.  You  still 
have  a  good  deal  to  learn."  Scully's  positive  tone  stag- 
gered Wosta  who  looked  hard  at  Scully.     "Yes.  and  when 


512  PREPARING  THE  DEFENSE 

you  know  the  facts  in  the  case  you'll  be  the  foremost  in 
coming-  to  her  support." 

"^^•e  been  telling"  him  that,"  chimed  in  McCarth}-. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  tell  of  a  man  by  the  name  of  Hart?" 
inquired  Wosta,  looking  pointedly  at  Scully. 

"Yes,  and  know  more  about  him  than  you  do." 

"You  know  she  kept  company  with  him,  don'tyou?" 

"No,  I  know  she  didn't  keep  compan}^  with  him." 

"What?  Why  I  saw  him  with  her  on  different  occasions 
and  saw  him  hanging  around  the  house  waiting  for  her." 

"That  may  be  true,  but  appearances  are  sometimes  de- 
ceptive ;  there's  a  man  in  Joliet  who  could  disabuse  your 
mind." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Rock." 

"Why,  he  was  one  of  her  associates." 

"You're  mistaken." 

"Well,  I  would  not  believe  him,  no  matter  what  he  said." 

"Well,  you  verify  the  old  saying,  'There's  none  so  blind 
as  those  who  refuse  to  see !'  " 

"Come  now,  Wosia,  you'll  live  to  regret  this,"  said  Mc- 
Carthy, "if  the  worst  should  happen  your  niece,  you'll  never 
forgive  yourself." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  Wosta  with  a  show  of 
impatience.  "If  you  think  you  can  prove  me  wrong,  I'll 
give  you  the  chance." 

"Now,  that  looks  sensible,"  said  Scully.  "I  still  think 
there  is  some  hope  for  you,"  smiling  at  Wosta  and  extend- 
ing his  hand.  "I'll  want  you,  however,  to  take  a  trip  to 
Joliet  with  me.  What  say  you  if  we  go  the  day  after 
tomorrow  ?" 

"I'll  go,  if  I  can  get  relieved." 

"I'll  see  to  it,"  said  McCarthy,  very  much  pleased  at  the 
turn  things  had  taken. 


herman  wosta  gets  a  shock  513 

Chapter  LII 
herman  wosta  gets  a  shock. 

When  Mike  Scully,  Herman  Wosta  and  a  clerk  from 
King's  entered  the  warden's  office  at  the  penitentiary  they 
w^ere  well  received.  Scully  introduced  Wosta  and  the 
other  gentleman.  "Sit  down,"  said  the  official.  "I  suppose 
you  have  come  to  see  Rock?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  since  you  were  here  before,  Air.  Scully,  I  think 
I  did  you  some  good.  The  following  morning  I  had  them 
bring  Rock  over  and  I  said  to  him,  *Now,  Rock,  I  am  going 
to  put  you  over  in  the  hospital.  I  want  you  to  help  and 
attend  to  the  patients  there,  and  if  you  do  the  right  thing 
I'll  keep  you  there.'  He  promised  he  would.  'Do  you  know 
you  have  an  influential  friend?'  I  said  to  him.  'Who  is  he?' 
he  inquired.  'Never  mind  who  he  is,  he  stands  ace  high 
with  the  Governor,  what  he  says  goes.'  So  I  think  you  will 
have  little  trouble  with  him.  Here,  take  a  cigar."  pulling 
out  a  box  from  a  drawer  in  his  desk,  "and  I'll  send  for 
him." 

As  soon  as  Rock  entered  the  office  in  which  the  three 
men  were  seated,  he  observed  Wosta,  and  a  broad  grin 
came  over  his  countenance. 

"Sit  down,  Rock,"  said  Scully.  "How  are  they  treating 
you?" 

"Pretty  good  since  you  were  here.  I  think  you  must  have 
put  in  a  good  word  for  me,  I'm  in  the  hospital  now." 

"That's  nothing  to  what  I'm  going  to  do  for  you,  if  you 
do  the  right  thing  by  us.    I  suppose  you  know  Mr.  Wosta?" 

"Yes,  that's  the  cop  that  shot  my  pal."  grinning  at 
Herman. 

"I  didn't  know  wdio  he  was,"  replied  Wosta.  "He  fired 
at  me  twice  before  I  fired  at  him." 

"Well,  you  w^ere  lucky  he  didn't  plug  you  on  a  former 
occasion." 

"When  was  that?" 


514  HERMAN    WOSTA    GETS    A    SHOCK 

"The  night  you  knocked  him  with  your  niece,  when  you 
had  the  fight,"  grinning. 

"Well,  that's  by-gones,"  said  Scully,  "so  there's  no  use 
of  hatching  old  sores.  Let  us  to  the  point.  Tell  us  what 
transpired  between  Hart  and  Miss  Burdett  at  their  first 
meeting." 

Rock  gave  a  graphic  description  of  what  had  taken  place, 
up  to  the  time  he  and  Margy  left  Florence  and  Hart  in  the 
wineroom  together. 

"Me  and  Margy  went  into  the  next  room  where  we  both 
could  hear  the  desperate  struggle.  My,  but  she  put  up  a 
fight;  we  could  hear  the  chairs  and  table  go  rattling  over; 
he  choked  her  until  I  thought  he  would  kill  her.  I  began 
to  get  scared." 

Scully  looked  at  Wosta,  who  had  turned  livid  with  pas- 
sion. 

"What  after  that?" 

"She  ran  out  of  the  saloon." 

"Well,  how  did  she  become  associated  with  him  after- 
ward?" inquired  Wosta. 

"Why,  he  hung  around  the  place  where  she  worked, 
stopped  her  on  the  street — at  first  she  wouldn't  speak  to 
him.  Then  he  jollied  her  up  about  marriage,  until  at  last 
she  listened  to  him.  Then  you  remember  the  picnic,  where 
they  had  the  race?" 

"Yes,  where  you  bet  the  fifty  dollars  and  lost?" 

Rock  laughed  at  the  mention  of  it.  "Why  that  was  only 
a  bluff,  to  jolly  you  and  her.  You  remember  Hart  wouldn't 
trust  anybody  with  the  money,  only  you?" 

A  scowl  came  over  Wosta's  face.  "Well,  after  the  race," 
said  Rock,  continuing,  "he  took  her  to  a  hotel  and  ordered 
supper  and  paid  for  a  bottle  of  champagne;  he  talked  soft 
things  to  her  about  marriage  and  housekeeping  until  the 
train  left.  She  wasn't  used  to  drinking,  so  he  had  her  mud- 
dled in  no  time." 

"That  can't  be  so,  because  she  sent  a  telegram?" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind ;  he  sent  the  telegram  and  tried  to 
lay  the  blame  on  you." 


HERMAN    WOSTA    GETS    A    SHOCK  515 

"Why  didn't  she  denounce  him  the  next  day?" 
'"Because  she  was  afraid.  He  threatened  to  expose  her, 
and  most  likely  he  would,  and  then  you  and  the  rest  of 
your  family  would  have  discarded  her.  She  just  did  as 
ninety-nine  girls  out  of  a  hundred  would  do — kept  quiet 
about  it." 

"After  all  that  she  made  up  with  him  again,  because  I  saw 
him  at  the  corner  of  the  street  near  where  she  lived,  wait- 
ing for  her.  And  after  the  fight  he  and  I  had,  when  I  went 
to  the  house,  she  was  in  the  act  of  coming  out  to  meet 
him.     What  have  you  to  say  to  that  ?"  inquired  Wosta. 

"That's  all  true.  He  bulldozed  her  until  she  was  fright- 
ened of  her  life  of  him,  and  being  afraid  of  her  people,  espe- 
cially you,  she  consented  that  night  to  go  to  a  dance  with 
him,  in  hopes  of  keeping  him  quiet." 

"My  God !"  exclaimed  Wosta.  "I  see  the  whole  damn- 
able proceedings  now.  My  sister's  child  driven  to  despera- 
tion, and  I  have  been  so  harsh  with  her !  Come,  Mr.  Scully, 
let  us  get  away.    I  have  heard  enough  of  this." 

"You're  not  going  to  go  back  on  me,  now?"  said  Rock, 
looking  up  at  Scully.  "I've  done  the  right  thing,  haven't 
I?"  .  ^ 

"Yes,  I  am  well  satisfied,  and  as  soon  as  this  trial  is 
over  I  will  see  what  can  be  done  for  you." 

When  Herman  Wosta  arrived  home  that  night  he  star- 
tled his  people  by  his  vehement  defense  of  his  niece. 

"I  know  all  about  it  now,"  he  shouted.  "She's  been  abused 
shamefully.  Yes,  Mrs.  Long"  (who  happened  to  be  pres- 
ent), "if  you  heard  the  story  I  heard  today,  you  would  be 
glad  my  poor  sister,  her  mother,  is  dead,  so  she  could  never 
learn  it." 

"Calm  yourself,  Herman,"  said  his  mother  to  him,  while 
the  rest  gazed  in  blank  amazement. 

The  day  after  Herman  Wosta  and  Scully  had  interviewed 
Rock  in  the  prison,  Mrs.  Scully  rushed  ofif  to  the  county 
jail  to  tell  Florence  the  story  as  had  been  told  her  by  her 
husband.    The  turnkey  had  no  sooner  opened  the  cell  door 


516  HERMAN    WOSTA    GETS    A    SHOCK 

than  she  rushed  in — "Florence!     I  bring  you  glad  tidings. 
Sit  down  and  listen. 

"Mr.  Scully  and  your  Uncle  Herman  were  away  together 
yesterday  to  see  a  party,  and  when  they  came  back  your 
Uncle  Herman  vowed  he  would  leave  no  stone  unturned 
to  see  you  righted ;  and  that  your  grandfather  and  grand- 
mother felt  happy  in  spite  of  their  grief,  and  told  Herman 
to  call  upon  you  and  give  you  their  love.  Herman  would 
have  come  today,  only  they  had  to  go  and  see  Mr.  King, 
your  lawyer.  Another  officer  by  the  name  of  McCarthy 
was  going  with  them." 

Florence  wept.     "So  they  have  forgiven  me?" 

"Yes,  and  a  Mrs.  Long,  whoever  she  is,  told  her  husband 
that  he  had  to  do  all  he  could.    I  suppose  you  know  them?" 

"Yes,  I  know  Mrs.  Long  well,  she  was  my  mother's  clos- 
est friend.    She  is  a  good  soul." 

"Come  now,  Florence,  you  must  have  courage  and  be  a 
little  more  cheerful.  You  see  the  sun  begins  to  be  a  little 
brighter.  Even  Father  Nolan  hopes  and  prays  for  you. 
He  told  us  the  other  evening  he  would  like  to  come  and  see 
you,  but  on  account  of  your  religion  being  different  from 
his  he  might  be  misunderstood,  but  he  told  me  to  tell  you 
that  he  hoped  for  your  liberation." 

"That  was  kind  of  him.  Miss  Brown  mentioned  him  to 
me,  she  said  he  was  a  saintly  man.  I  am  sure  I  would 
have  no  objection  to  meet  him,  in  fact,  would  be  pleased." 

"Then  I  will  have  him  call." 

Mike  Scully,  Herman  Wosta,  and  Sergeant  McCarthy 
called  upon  King,  although  his  clerk  had  already  reported 
their  interview  with  Rock. 

"I  am  glad,  Mr.  Wosta,  that  you  have  been  enlightened 
as  to  the  facts  in  this  case,  and  I  would  like  you  at  your 
earliest  convenience  to  call  upon  my  client  and  give  her 
cheer.  Her  greatest  regret,  as  I  am  informed,  is  the  dis- 
credit she  has  put  on  her  family,  but,  as  you  know  now,  she 
has  been  a  victim,  and  has  sufifered,  mainly  on  account  of 
trying  to  shield  her  good  name." 


HERMAN    WOSTA    GETS   A    SHOCK  517 

"I  am  satisfied  now,"  said  Wosta,  "to  do  all  I  can  for 
her." 

"That's  right.  Now,  McCarthy,  do  you  think  it's  possible 
to  find  that  man  that  waited  at  the  table  the  night  Alderman 
Great  kidnapped  her?" 

"I  don't  know.  "You  see,  that's  some  years  ago,  but  me 
and  Wosta  will  try  and  locate  him." 

"Well,  do  your  best.  I  may  not  be  able  to  use  him,  but 
find  him  if  you  can ;  probably  he  was  a  member  of  the 
Waiters'  Union.  If  so,  and  he's  still  in  Chicago,  I  don't  think 
you'll  have  much  trouble.  Some  day  next  week  I  will  want 
an  interview  with  all  our  witnesses." 

Mrs.  Scully  had  brought  Father  Nolan  to  see  Florence 
and  as  soon  as  he  was  permitted  to  enter  the  cell  Florence 
rose  and  bowed  her  head  reverently.  "Sit  down,  my  child. 
I  have  come  to  fill  a  mission,  to  tell  you  that  one  good 
woman,  now  a  saint  in  heaven,  bore  you  no  ill  will,  and 
that  with  nearly  her  last  breath  prayed  that  those  who  had 
wronged  her  should  not  be  punished  on  her  account.  I 
fully  recognize  your  position,  and  do  not  desire  to  say  any- 
thing that  would  cause  you  unhappiness.  I  have  learned 
a  good  deal  about  you  the  last  few  days,  and  I  feel  heartily 
sorry  for  you." 

Tears  began  to  course  down  Florence's  cheeks  as  she 
listened  to  the  kindly  words  of  the  priest,  but  she  could 
not  utter  a  word. 

"I  have  not  come  here  to  talk  religion  to  you — your  faith 
may  differ  from  mine — but  we  both  have  the  one  God  and 
to  him  you  must  appeal.  His  ear  is  always  open  to  the 
suppliant  who  approaches  Him  in  a  proper  spirit.  I  have 
heard  you  are  very  despondent,  that  you  have  in  a  measure 
lost  hope ;  if  that  is  so,  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.  If  you  have 
sinned  you  must  live  so  as  to  make  amends,  to  lead  a  useful 
life.  You  are  still  young  and  with  God's  help  will  have 
ample  time  to  make  atonement  for  all  your  transgressions. 
Come,  now,  don't  cry,  let  me  see  3^ou  look  cheerful.  God 
is  good  and  has  sent  you  friends." 

The  priest  laid  his  hand  on  Florence's  head.    "Come,  now, 


518  HERMAN    WOSTA    GETS    A    SHOCK 

wipe  your  eyes,  I  have  not  come  to  bring  you  sorrow,  but 
glad  tidings ;  to  infuse  courage  and  hope  into  you,  to  tell 
you  that  if  you  are  not  fit  to  live,  you  are  not  fit  to  die ; 
God  never  wills  the  death  of  a  sinner.  Men  may  condemn 
you,  but  if  the  Redeemer  was  present  he  would  say,  'Ye  that 
are  free  from  sin,  let  him  cast  the  first  stone !'  Remember 
Christ's  promise,  'Come,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.'  " 

The  priest  rose  to  take  his  leave. 

Florence  offered  her  hand.  "Father,  you  have  given  me 
great  comfort ;  I  will  try  to  look  to  the  future." 

"Do,  my  child,  and  may  God  bless  you."  He  extended 
his  hand  over  her  bowed  head. 

Mrs.  Scully  escorted  him  to  the  entrance  of  the  wo- 
men's quarters.  Many  of  the  female  prisoners  bowed  to 
him  as  he  passed,  and  to  all  he  acknowledged  their  recogni- 
tion with  a  kindly  smile.  When  Mrs.  Scully  returned  she 
found  Florence  much  more  cheerful.  She  kissed  Mrs.  Scully 
as  soon  as  she  entered  the  cell.  "Ah !  Mrs,  Scully,  that  is 
a  grand  man,  no  wonder  you,  who  are  of  the  same  religion 
as  he,  have  faith  in  the  ministration  of  your  pastor.  I  feel 
happ)^  now.  and  have  faith  in  my  redemption." 

"Yes,  but  you  must  desire  to  live  so  that  you  may  do 
good  in  the  future." 

"I  will.     I  now  have  hope." 

When  Herman  Wosta  entered  the  sheriff's  of^ce  to  get 
permission  to  see  his  niece,  the  sheriff,  who  had  made  his 
acquaintance  during  the  trial  of  Rock,  Schultz,  Bert,  and 
Phipps,  turned  to  him.  "So  you've  come  at  last,  have  you? 
Well,  it's  about  time;  to  think  that  people,  strangers,  have 
come  thousands  of  miles  to  help  out  your  relative  and  her 
own  people  not  to  come  near  her.  I  hardly  know  what  to 
think  of  you." 

"Well,  sheriff,  we  have  been  very  sore  against  her,  but 
it's  all  over  now." 

"Take  this,"  handing  him  the  necessary  pass,  "and  go 
square  yourself,  and  then  set  to  work  to  do  all  you  can 
for  her.     She's  a  good  woman,  no  matter  what  the  press 


HERMAN    WOSTA    GETS    A    SHOCK  519 

or  people  say.  The  state's  attorney  and-  I  have  split  our 
friendship  over  her;  but  I  don't  care — I  feel  like  giving  up 
my  job  if  she's  convicted." 

When  Herman  entered  the  cell  he  took  her  in  his  big 
arms  and  kissed  her  tenderly.  "Florence,  I  have  been  harsh 
to  you.  It  was  my  great  love  for  your  mother,  my  sister, 
and  your  people,  but  it  is  all  forgotten  now.  Your  grand- 
parents send  their  love  to  you  and  pray  that  you  may  be 
restored  to  them.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Long  also  send  their  re- 
gards, and  Mrs.  Sloan — you  remember  her?  She,  too,  wants 
to  be  remembered,  in  fact  all  our  people  are  anxious  for 
your  deliverance." 

"Ah,  uncle !"  she  cried,  midst  her  sobs,  "if  you  only  knew 
what  I  have  gone  through  you  would  pity  me." 

"I  know  enough — don't  mention  a  single  thing — I  forbid 
you."  He  held  her  hand  as  they  sat  in  silence  for  some 
moments. 

"I  won't  be  able  to  come  and  see  you  often,  as  I  have 
much  to  do.  We  are  all  working  in  your  interest,  and  hope 
for  the  best.  Be  of  good  cheer,  you  are  not  friendless  now, 
and  we  begin  to  feel  confidence  in  the  ultimate  result."  He 
again  took  her  in  his  arms  before  leaving  and  she  looked  up 
into  his  face  as  he  wiped  away  her  tears. 

"When  was  Mary  Vann  here?"  he  inquired. 

"A  few  days  ago." 

"Well,  she  has  been  a  loyal  friend  of  yours.  She  and  I 
have  been  estranged  over  you ;  but  I  must  see  her  and  tell 
her  I  was  wrong." 

"Ah,  Herman !  She,  too  has  had  her  experiences,  but 
now  she's  a  good  woman.  You  men  are  sometimes  un- 
charitable and  don't  make  sufficient  allowance  for  our  mis- 
fortunes. You  should  know  it  is  a  rare  case  where  a  woman 
goes  wrong,  that  the  man  is  not  more  to  blame  than  she, 
whom  the  world  frowns  on,  while  he  too  often  escapes 
even  censure." 

"Good-bye,  but  not  for  long,"  as  he  kissed  her  farewell. 


520  THE   TRIAL   OF   FLORENCE   BL'RDETT 

Chapter  LI  1 1. 

THE  TRL\,L  of   FLORENCE   BL'RDETT. 

The  day  set  for  the  trial  of  Florence  Burdett  had  arrived. 
Long  ere  the  time  for  the  judge  to  take  his  seat,  the  court- 
room was  crowded  and  bailiffs  were  placed  at  the  doors 
to  prevent  any  more  from  gaining  admission.  This  was  a 
trying  position  for  the  court  officials,  the  women  being  par- 
ticularly persistent;  some  who  were  influential  obtained 
admission  through  the  judge's  chambers,  others  appealed 
to  the  sheriff  until  at  last  it  was  impossible  to  find  room 
for  any  more,  so  the  doors  were  closed. 

Mike  Scully  and  Herman  Wosta  occupied  seats  inside 
the  rail,  King,  Relgiez  and  Nomolos  were  chatting  at  one 
side  of  a  large  table,  the  state's  attorney  and  two  of  his 
assistants  at  the  other  side. 

At  length  the  judge  was  seen  to  enter  and  take  his  seat, 
a  bailiff  gave  the  edge  of  the  rostrum  on  which  the  judge 
sat  a  vicious  knock  with  his  gavel  and  proclaimed  in  the 
usual  form  that  the  honorable  court  was  now  in  session. 
All  eyes  were  turned,  in  the  direction  toward  which  two 
females  were  coming;  one,  the  prisoner,  dressed  in  black, 
walked  with  her  head  down,  accompanied  by  another  lady 
about  her  own  age.  Most  of  those  in  court  rose  from  their 
seats  and  craned  their  necks  to  get  a  look  at  the  prisoner, 
while  a  buzzing  filled  the  room. 

"Silence  in  court !"  shouted  the  bailiff,  at  the  same  time 
hammering  the  desk  with  his  gavel. 

"Sit  down  there,"  were  the  peremptory  orders  of  other 
bailiff's  in  different  parts  of  the  room.  The  prisoner  and 
her  escort. took  seats  right  behind  the  leading  counsel  for 
the  defense.  King  turned  and  whispered  to  them.  The 
lady  who  had  escorted  Florence  smiled,  and  then  gazed 
around  until  she  observed  a  gentleman  seated  some  dis- 
tance away,  nodded  and  smiled  to  him. 

Florence,  deathly  pale,  held  her  head  down,  neither  look- 


THE   TRIAL   OF   FLORENCE   BURDETT  521 

ing-  to  the  right  or  left.  King  spoke  to  her  and  smiled,  she 
merely  inclined  her  head. 

The  judge  arranged  some  papers,  took  a  survey  of  the 
crowded  court  room,  and  then  looked  at  the  clerk,  who  pro- 
ceeded to  call  off  a  number  of  names.  As  each  one  was 
called  he  took  his  seat  in  the  place  allotted  for  jurors;  when 
the  twelve  seats  were  occupied  they  were  duly  sworn,  after 
which  they  sat  down. 

The  state's  attorney  rose,  bowed  to  the  court,  and  said : 
"Gentlemen,  the  case  now  on  trial  is  one  in  which  the  de- 
fendant is  charged  with  murder  in  the  first  degree ;  the 
extreme  penalty  for  which,  as  you  are  no  doubt  aw^are,  is 
death.  It  is  to  be  hoped  the  trial  will  not  be  protracted, 
as  both  myself  and  my  learned  friend  on  the  other  side 
know  that  many  of  you  are  business  men,  who  have  to 
conform  to  this  most  important  duty  at  considerable  in- 
convenience." 

He  looked  over  at  Attorney  King,  as  much  as  to  inquire 
if  those  remarks  met  his  approval ;  King  nodded. 

"What  is  your  name?"  looking  at  the  man  in  the  front 
row  nearest  the  judge's  desk. 

"Ole   Ols'on." 

"Where  do  you  live,  Mr.  Olson?" 

The  juror  informed  him  by  answering  the  question  as 
asked. 

"Do  you  know  any  of  the  parties  in  this  case?*'" 

"No,  sir." 

"Do  you  know  any  of  the  counsel  on  the  other  side?" 

The  juror  looked  over  at  the  counsel  for  the  defense. 
"No,  sir." 

"Have  yo^  read  of  this  case  in  the  papers?" 

"Have  yotl  formed  an  opinion?" 

"Are  you  averse  to  capital  punishment  even  when  there's 
a  woman  in  the  case?" 

To  all  questions  asked,  whether  answered  satisfactorily 
or  not,  the  state's  attorney  gave  no  intimation,  but  passed 
on  to  the  next  juror. 

"AA'hat's  vour  name?" 


522  THE  TRIAL  OF   FLORENCE   BURDETT 

"John  O'Loughlin,"  in  an  emphatic  tone. 
"Where  do  you  live,  Mr.  O'Loughlin?  What  business 
are  you  in  ?  Now,  you  heard  the  questions  I  put  the  gentle- 
man on  your  right,  do  you  think  that  your  answer  to  those 
questions  would  be  such  as  to  qualify  you  as  a  competent 
juror?" 

"No,  sir." 

"To  what  question  do  you  think  your  answer  would  be 
unsatisfactory?" 

"To  the  one,  'Do  you  know  any  of  the  parties  con- 
cerned?' " 

"You  don't  know  the  prisoner,  do  you?" 

"No,  but  I  know  of  the  alderman  and  know  he  was  no 
good." 

The  state's  attorney  looked  at  the  judge,  who  rose  from 
his  seat  and,  frowning  on  O'Loughlin,  in  a  severe  tone,  said, 

"You're  excused,  sir.  A  very  improper  and  uncalled-for 
answer." 

O'Loughlin  got  his  hat  and  rushed  out  of  court. 

There  was  a  titter  amongst  the  audience.  King  smiled  at 
the  prospective  jurors  occupying  the  chairs,  while  the  bail- 
iffs rapped  for  order.  Another  prospective  juror  was 
moved  up  into  O'Loughlin's  place. 

"What's  your  name?" 

"John  Pritchard." 

"Where  do  you  live,  Mr.  Pritchard?" 

Pritchard  answered  the  question. 

"Now,  Mr.  Pritchard,  in  view  of  what  has  taken  place,  I 
want  3'^ou  to  answer  the  questions  asked  in  a  manner  not 
derogatory  to  either  side  in  this  controversy,  and  the  same 
applies  to  all  you  gentlemen." 

Most  of  the  jurors  nodded  their  heads. 

"Now,  Mr.  Pritchard,  for  the  purpose  of  saving  time,  you 
heard  the  inquiries  I  made  to  Mr.  Olson?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Now,  do  you  feel  you  can  conform  to  the  duties  of  a 
competent  juror?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  can." 


THE   TRIAL   OF   FLORENCE   BURDETT  .  523 

"You  don't  know  any  of  the  parties  concerned  in  the 
case,  nor  the  counsel  on  either  side?" 

"No,  sir." 

The  next  man  asked  demurred  at  capital  punishment,  and 
the  judge  rose. 

"Even  if  the  law  of  this  state  decreed  it?" 

"Yes,  sir;  my  conscience  wouldn't  let  me  hang-  anybody." 

"You're  excused." 

Nine  jurors  had  been  examined  and  five  excused  for  cause. 
Four  seemed  to  meet  the  approval  of  the  state's  attorney. 
He  held  a  whispered  consultation  with  his  assistants  and 
then,  turning  to  King,  said,  "We'll  accept  those  four." 

Mr.  King  rose  and  bowed  to  the  jurors. 

"Mr.  Olson,  are  you  a  married  man?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Have  you  a  family?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Daughters  among  them?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  see  by  your  answer  to  the  opposing  counsel  you  have 
read  the  papers.  Of  course,  all  intelligent  men  read  the 
papers  nowadays;  now,  I'm  going  to  ask  you,  not  have  you 
formed  an  opinion,  but  to  ask  you  have  you  formed  such 
an  opinion  as  would  prejudice  you  so  strongly  against  the 
defendant,  this  lady  here,"  pointing  to  Florence  (all  the 
jurors  looked  in  the  direction),  "as  not  to  give  her  a  fair 
and  impartial  trial?" 

"No,  sir." 

"And  you  would  give  her  the  benefit  of  any  doubt  that 
might  arise  in  your  mind,  or  in  other  words,  that  you  would 
have  to  be  satisfied  beyond  a  shadow  of  a  doubt,  before 
you  would  convict?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Do  you  believe  a  woman  has  a  right  to  protect  her  per- 
son and  property  even  to  the  taking  of  life,  if  such  a  case 
should  arise?" 

The  attorneys  for  the  prosecution  were  seen  to  be  whis- 
pering to  one  another. 


524  THE   TRIAL  OF  FLORENCE   BURDETT 

"I  don't  quite  understand." 

"Well,  I'll  try  and  make  it  clear  to  you.  Supposing  a 
woman  is  attacked  in  her  own  home  and  in  danger  of  per- 
sonal violence,  defends  herself  and  in  that  defense  a  life  is 
taken.    Would  you  convict  her?" 

"Not  if  according  to  the  evidence  she  was  justified." 

"Do  you  know  any  of  the  counsel  on  the  other  side?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Or  any  relatives  or  personal  friends  of  the  deceased?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Mr.  Pritchard,  I  see  that  you  were  paying  particular 
attention  to  the  queries  I  put  to  Mr.  Olson,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  but  what  you  understand  their  purport?" 

"Yes,  I  think  I  do." 

"Is  there  any  one  of  them  to  which  you  would  feel  justi- 
fied in  giving  a  different  answer  from  what  he  did?" 

"No." 

"You're  a  married  man?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And,  of  course,  living  at  home  with  your  family  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  merely  ask  you  that  question,  Mr.  Pritchard,  because 
I  want  a  high-class,  moral,  intelligent  jur}^  to  try  this  case, 
and  feel  confident  that  you're  such  a  man." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  smiling. 

Turning  to  the  next  juror,  Mr.  Johnson.  Attorney  King 
continued : 

"You're  not  acquainted  with  any  of  the  counsel  on  the 
other  side?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Nor  friends  or  relatives  of  the  deceased?" 

"No." 

"Mr.  Johnson,  I  see  by  your  answer  to  my  learned  friend 
you  live  on  the  south  side." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That  is  the  first  ward,  I  believe?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Did  you  ever  take  any  part  in  politics  over  there?" 


THE  TRIAL  OF   FLORENCE  BURDETT  525 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Might  I  ask  you  in  what  particular?" 

"I  was  captain  of  the  precinct." 

"And  helped  the  alderman  out?"  said  King,  smiling. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  see  that  you  are  now  out  of  employment.  What  did 
you  do  formerly?" 

"I  have  held  different  positions." 

"Ever  tend  bar?" 

"Yes." 

"You  heard  the  proposition  I  put  to  Mr,  Olson  and  Mr. 
Pritchard  and  their  answers;  do  vou  coincide  with  them?" 

"Sure." 

Then  to  the  next  man : 

"Your  name  is  Hertz.  Now,  Mr.  Hertz,  so  as  not  to 
weary  you  with  questions,  you  heard  those  I  put  to  the 
other  gentlemen,  especially  those  as  to  the  right  of  per- 
sons to  defend  themselves  when  in  fear  of  injury  to  their 
person  or  property?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Now,  Mr.  Hertz,  I  ask  you  this  question  as  a  mere  mat- 
ter of  form — you  read  the  papers?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Of  course  T  know  you  do,  but  I  am  going  to  ask  you, 
have  you  read  anything  in  the  papers  that  would  so  influ- 
ence your  mind,  as  to  prevent  you  from  giving  my  client, 
this  lady  here,"  pointing  his  hand  to  Florence  (the  jurors' 
eyes  all  turned  in  her  direction),  "a  fair  and  impartial 
trial?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"You're  a  married  man?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Family?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Do  you  know  any  person  concerned  in  this  trial,  attor. 
neys,  the  deceased  or  any  of  his  personal  friends?" 

"No,  sir." 

"You  will  be  willing,  as  the  law  declares  vou  should,  t^( 


526  THE   TRIAL   OF   FLORENCE   BURDETT 

give  her  the  benefit  of  any  doubt  that  may  arise  in  your 
mind?" 

"I  would  have  to  be  satisfied  as  to  her  guilt." 

"Well,  that's  the  same  thing  and  very  well  put,  Mr. 
Hertz,"  nodding  to  the  juror. 

Attorney  King  stooped  down  as  if  in  consultation  with  his 
two  colleagues  and  rising  said,  "We  will  excuse  you,  Mr. 
Johnson." 

It  became  apparent  to  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution 
that  the  line  of  defense  was  to  be  one  of  justifiable  homicide, 
so  the  prosecution  took  great  pains  in  examining  the  balance 
of  the  jurors  on  this  special  phase  of  the  question.  Many 
jurors  were  excused  on  both  sides,  the  counsel  for  the  de- 
fense taking  great  pains  to  get  on  the  jury  men  of  families, 
especially  those  who  had  daughters.  Occasionally  there 
was  a  wordy  war  between  the  opposing  forces,  Mr.  King 
preserving  an  appearance  of  good  humor,  and  always  giving 
way  to  his  learned  friend  on  the  opposite  side  in  minor 
matters,  at  the  same  time  smiling  at  the  jurors  as  if  to  get 
their  approval  of  his  course. 

It  took  five  days  to  get  the  jury,  the  attorney  for  the 
prosecution  being  very  critical  as  to  the  justification  neces- 
sary before  the  taking  of  life.  Challenges  became  frequent, 
many  being  excused  for  cause. 

On  the  day  the  jury  was  completed,  court  adjourned 
after  giving  the  usual  instructions  to  the  jury  to  hold  no 
conversation  with  any  one  in  reference  to  the  case.  They 
were  then  given  in  charge  of  a  couple  of  bailififs,  with  a 
warning  to  let  no  outsider  converse  with  them. 

Florence  was  taken  back  to  her  cell,  Mrs.  Scully  telling 
her  to  be  of  good  cheer. 

"What  do  you  think  of  your  jury,  Mr.  King?"  inquired 
Scully,  while  they  were  waiting  for  Mrs.  Scully. 

"That  jury  will  never  convict  her.  There  are  three  men 
on  it  I  would  stake  my  life  on.  They'll  stick  till  doom's-day. 
and,  if  the  state's  attorney  persists  in  demanding  the  full 
penalty,  we  have  him.  Of  course  the  defendant  shot  the 
fellow,  there's  no  disputing  that,  but  I  am  full  of  hope.     I 


THE    PROSECUTION  527 

have  got  a  tip  they're  going  to  rake  up  everything  they  can 
about  her  previous  character.  Who's  this  fellow  Hooligari 
that  seems  so  officious?  I  wonder  if  he  is  one  of  their  wit- 
nesses?" 

"Why,  he's  a  dirty,  low-down  groggery  keeper.  His 
place  was  the  rendezvous  for  the  Hart  gang,"  replied  Scully. 

"Well,  they  surely  won't  want  him  to  testify, — if  they  do, 
its  a  sign  of  weakness.  I  will  want  you  to  give  me  some  of 
the  particulars  about  him." 

"McCarthy  can  tell  you,"  said  Wosta.  "He  knows  him 
well." 

"Then  you  tell  McCarthy  I  want  to  see  him  in  the  morn- 
ing. Here's  Mrs.  Scully.  Well,  Mrs.  Scully,"  said  King, 
laughing,  "I  suppose  you  saw  your  friend  securely  caged?" 

"Yes,  poor  thing,  she  was  quite  done  up." 

"Well,  never  mind,  the  day  after  tomorrow  I'll  appoint 
you  as  her  keeper.  Our  friend,  the  sheriff,  wants  to  fire  her, 
anyway,"  laughing. 

They  shook  hands  and  parted. 


Chapter  LIV: 

THE    PROSECUTION-. 

The  day  following  the  one  on  which  the  jury  was  com- 
pleted saw  such  crowds  gathered  around  and  in  the  criminal 
court  T^uilding  as  had  never  been  seen  before.  Immediately 
the  doors  were  open  there  was  a  rush  of  people  that  swept 
the  bailiffs  aside,  women  got  knocked  down  in  the  con- 
fusion, some  of  them  lost  their  hats  in  the  melee,  and  the 
dresses  of  others  were  torn.  The  bailiffs  present  did  the 
best  they  could  to  stem  the  torrent,  but  in  vain. 

The  sheriff,  who  was  present,  summoned  more  of  his 
deputies  to  assist  in  preserving  order.  Many  attorneys  who 
had  come  late  were  refused  admission  in  spite  of  their  pro- 
tests.    King  and  his  associates  had  arrived  early  and  had 


528  THE    PROSECUTION 

their  books  arranged  before  the  rush  took  place.  King 
smiled  when  he  saw  the  impetuous  crowd  clamoring  for 
admission. 

"We  are  going  to  have  an  audience,  anyway,"  he  said  to 
Scully  and  Wosta,  who  were  standing  by  at  the  time.  "I 
am  glad  to  see  so  many  women  present,"  he  whispered, 
"though  as  a  rule  they're  very  hard  on  their  own  sex.  I  see 
Hooligan  is  here,"  looking  in  the  direction  where  the  dis- 
tinguished pot-house  patriot  was  in  consultation  with  the 
state's  attorney. 

The  judge  took  his  seat.  The  prisoner  was  seen  coming 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  lady  that  had  escorted  her  on  pre- 
vious occasions,  the  face  of  the  prisoner  pale  and  care-worn, 
that  of  her  escort  bearing  the  bloom  of  vigorous  health  as 
she  conducted  her  unfortunate  friend  to  the  chair  allotted  to 
her.  She  looked  around  in  proud  defiance,  her  face  flushed ; 
she  knew  the  crucial  period  had  arrived.  Ere  she  sat  down 
she  nodded  to  her  husband  and  Wosta,  who  both  bowed 
without  smiling.  The  occasion  was  too  serious.  The  bailiffs 
rapped  for  order. 

The  state's  attorney  arose. 

"May  it  please  your  honor,  I  would  have  all  the  witnesses 
excluded  from  the  room." 

The  order  was  given.  A  number  of  people  rose.  Hooligan 
looked  at  the  state's  attorney  in  an  inquiring  manner.  The 
attorney  waved  his  hand  to  him — he  was  no  exception,  so 
he  retired,  chagrined  at  what  he  thought  an  indignity. 

The  state's  attorney  commenced  his  address  by  bowing 
to  the  court. 

"May  it  please  your  honor,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  my 
official  position  imposes  upon  me  the  painful  duty  of  pre- 
senting this  case  for  your  consideration.  I  am  pleased,  how- 
ever, to  inform  you,  that  as  far  as  the  case  ior  the  prosecu- 
tion is  concerned,  my  arraignment  will  be  brief,  and  as  we 
have  but  few  witnesses  to  examine  on  our  side,  very  little 
of  your  time  will  be  taken  up.  The  prisoner  at  the  bar  is 
charged  with  the  murder  of  Thomas  Great,  one  of  our  most 
widelv  known  and,  I  might  say,  influential  citizens,  a  man 


THE   PROSECUTION  529 

long  in  public  life  and  deeply  mourned  by  all  who  knew  him. 
The  evidence  will  show  the  murder  took  place  in  the  bou- 
doir, adjoining  a  bedroom  in  this  woman's  house,  and  at  the 
time  of  the  assassination  there  was  no  one  in  the  room  but 
the  prisoner  and  her  victim,  precluding  all  possibility  that 
any  one  but  the  prisoner  could  have  committed  the  crime. 
To  substantiate  this  fact,  we  will  place  her  maid  on  the 
stand,  who  will  testify  that  after  the  fatal  shot  had  been 
fired  she  found  the  accused  standing  over  her  victim  with 
the  smoking  revolver  in  her  hand.  We  will  corroborate  this 
statement  by  the  housekeeper  who  arrived  shortly  on  the 
scene,  and  also  by  the  policeman  who  arrived  ere  the  gun 
had  been  taken  out  of  her  hand  and  to  whom  she  admitted 
her  guilt ;  he  will  produce  the  revolver  with  its  empty  bar- 
rels from  which  the  dread  messengers  of  death  were  sped, 
and  which  found  lodgment  in  the  body  of  the  man ;  those 
two  bullets,  having  been  recovered,  will  be  shown  to  be 
identical  with  those  still  in  the  revolver.  We  will  further 
prove  the  cause  of  death  by  the  testimony  of  the  doctor  who 
made  the  post  mortem  examination,  so  no  link  is  want- 
ing in  the  chain  of  evidence.  I  am  fully  alive  to  the  fact 
that  where  a  woman  is  charged  with  a,  heinous  offense,  it  is 
natural  among  men  that  some  sympathy,  some  commiser- 
ation be  felt  for  her;  but,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  the  law 
makes  no  more  distinction  between  the  sexes  than  it  does 
the  race  or  religion  of  the  accused  man  or  woman.  Black  or 
white  stand  alike  under  the  law.  A  fair  face  may  create  a 
maudlin  sentiment,  which  you,  in  the  capacity  of  an  im- 
partial tribunal,  must  ignore. 

"We  noticed,  during  the  impaneling  of  this  jury,  the  dis- 
tinguished counsel  on  the  other  side  frequently  called  your 
attention  to  the  accused.  He  did  this  with  that  consum- 
mate ability  so  well  known  to  him,  believing  that  it  might 
afifect  your  minds,  warp  your  judgment,  and  lead  you  to 
overlook  the  grave  responsibility  imposed  by  your  oath  and 
to  forget  your  duty  to  the  state,  to  your  county,  to  your 
God.  We  will,  however,  prove  to  you  gentlemen  that  this 
is  not  the  face  of  a  saint,  but  the  face  of  a  siren,  capable  and 


530  THE    PROSECUTION 

accomplished  in  leading  men  to  destruction.  It  is  possible, 
but  not  probable,  that  the  defense,  like  ghouls,  may  try  to 
besmirch  the  memory  of  the  dead, — let  us  hope  not, — let 
the  dead  rest  in  peace,  ^^'e  have  to  deal  with  the  living. 
The  only  question  that  confronts  us  is,  did  this  woman 
murder  the  man  in  cold  blood  and  in  malice  aforethought? 
In  our  effort  to  establish  this  fact,  we  will  endeavor  to  show 
that  she  is  a  woman  of  experience,  yes,  one  with  a  record, 
that  in  her  past  life  she  has  been  associated  with  criminals, 
one  at  least  who  met  his  fate,  others  who  are  now  serving 
time  in  the  state  penitentiary.  In  conclusion,  gentlemen  of 
the  jury,  I  appeal  to  you,  and  feel  that  such  an  appeal  is 
hardly  necessary,  that  you  be  guided  solely  and  wholly  by 
the  law  and  evidence  which  we  will  be  enabled  to  lay  before 
you.  If  you  do,  we  feel  confident  that  justice  will  be  done, 
and  that  you  will  return  to  your  homes  satisfied  in  the  con- 
scious conviction  that  you  have  done  your  duty." 

During  the  delivery  of  his  speech,  Airs.  Scully  could  not 
keep  her  eyes  off  him.  At  the  conclusion  she  gave  a  de- 
spairing look  at  her  husband.  Florence  never  raised  her 
head.    It  would  seem  as  if  she  had  not  heard  a  word  he  said. 

The  court  looked  at  the  counsel  for  the  defense,  who  rose 
and  said : 

"May  it  please  your  honor,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  it  was 
my  intention  to  make  no  opening  statement,  but  some  of 
the  remarks  of  my  learned  friend  make  it  imperative.  In 
his  opening  address  he  seems  to  fear  that  the  ghouls  will 
rake  up  the  memory  of  the  dead.  Why  should  he  fear?  It 
is  said  that  the  'works  of  good  men  live  after  them.'  A\'e 
delight  in  recounting  them.  The  records  of  bad  men  sur- 
vive them.  Books,  both  secular  and  religious,  record  them. 
What  you  want  to  get  at  is  the  truth,  the  whole  truth. 
Then,  and  not  lill  then,  will  you  be  capable  of  judging.  I 
feel  confident  that  my  learned  friend  will  not  spare  my  client 
in  the  discharge  of  what  he  believes  to  be  his  dut}^  as  public 
prosecutor.  He  would  be  unworthy  of  the  high  office  he 
holds  if  he  did.  It  is  legitimate  on  his  part  and  we  know  he 
is  capable.     But,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  in  this  case  he'll 


THE   PROSECUTION  531 

fail,  ignobly  fail !  As  the  law  and  the  evidence  will  estab- 
lish, and  which  I  believe  your  sound  judgment  will  easily 
discern,  we  court  the  fullest  inquiry  in  this  case,  not  only 
of  the  killing-,  but  the  events  which  led  up  to  it,  and  which 
my  learned  opponent  refers  to  by  innuendo.  There  is,  how- 
ever, one  unkind  cut  he  made  in  his  opening  argument, 
when  he  refers  to  the  features  of  my  client.  When  he  dis- 
tinguishes them  between  the  face  of  a  saint  and  a  siren, 
probably  he  will  put  some  expert  on  the  stand  to  inform  you 
gentlemen  of  the  peculiarities  that  distinguish  them,  or  he 
may  try  to  lead  you  to  believe  that  he  himself  is  an  expert 
in  such  matters.  Maybe  it's  that  that  still  keeps  him  a 
bachelor"  (looking  over  at  the  state's  attorney,  who  was 
biting  his  lips),  "but,  gentlemen,  if  such  a  phase  of  the  ques- 
tion should  enter  into  this  case,  I  will  rely  upon  your  judg- 
ment, especially  on  you  husbands,  you  fathers  of  families, 
you  who  have  daughters  that  you  love  and  whose  charac- 
ters you  would  vindicate  with  your  lives.  I  have  already 
trespassed  too  much  on  your  time  and  perhaps  your 
patience,  so  will  conclude  and  let  him  call  his  witnesses." 

The  state's  attorney  rose.  "Call  Miss  Agnes  Deverioux." 
In  a  brief  time  a  stylishly  dressed  young  woman  was  seen 
entering  with  a  bailiff.  "Take  the  charr.  Miss  Deverioux  ;  be 
sworn." 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"Agnes  Deverioux." 

"Where  do  you  live,  Miss  Deverioux?" 

"At  present  I  am  staying  at  a  hotel." 

"Where  were  vou  living  on  the  night  of  September  9th, 
189—?" 

"At  Avenue." 

"That's  in  Chicago,  Cook  County,  State  of  Illinois?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"In  what  capacity  or  what  position  did  you  occupy  at 
that  time?" 

"Lady's  maid  to  Mrs.  Florence  Burdett,  as  she  was  known 
there." 

"Look  around  and  see  if  vou  can  recognize  her  in  court." 


532  THE    PROSECUTION 

"Yes,  sir ;  that's  her,"  pointing-  at  Florence. 

"Now,  on  the  night  referred  to,  tell  the  court  and  jury 
what  took  place  in  your  own  way,  and  be  as  concise  as 
possible." 

"I  was  attending  to  the  missus  as  usual ;  about  midnight 
I  assisted  her  to  undress.  She  lay  down  on  the  sofa;  she 
complained  she  couldn't  sleep.  About  two  o'clock  she  told 
me  to  retire.  I  went  to  bed  and  was  awakened  some  time 
after  by  hearing  an  angry  altercation  in  her  room.  I  listened 
for  some  moments  and  then  came  out  into  the  passage. 
Suddenly  I  heard  two  shots  fired.  I  screamed  and  pushed 
the  door  open,  leading  to  her  room." 

"Yes;  and  what  did  you  see  then?" 

"I  saw  Mrs.  Burdett  standing  with  a  revolver  in  her  hand, 
and  Alderman  Great  lying  on  the  floor." 

"Well,  what  happened  then?" 

"Mrs.  Leonora  Kline  came  running  in  and  I  heard  a  loud 
knocking  at  the  front  door.  I  ran  back  to  my  room  to  put 
some  of  my  clothes  on,  then  I  went  down  stairs,  opened  the 
door  and  let  a  policeman  in." 

"Well,  what  happened  then?" 

"I  followed  the  policemau  into  the  room  and  saw  him  take 
the  revolver  out  of  Mrs.  Burdett's  hand." 

"What  was  Mrs.  Kline  doing?" 

"She  w^as  bending  over  the  man." 

"Did  Mrs.  Burdett  say  anything?" 

"Yes,  she  said  she  killed  him."  There  was  a  buzzing  in 
court. 

"Well,  go  on." 

"Then  another  policeman  came  and  some  men  wanted  to 
come  upstairs,  but  one  of  the  policemen  ordered  them  down. 
Then  I  helped  Mrs.  Burdett  on  with  her  clothes  and  they 
took  her  away.  One  of  the  policemen  stayed  with  the  body 
and  I  went  to  my  room." 

"That's  all — take  the  witness." 

King  rose,  "Miss  Deverioux,  how  long  have  you  been  in 
the  employ  of  Mrs.  Burdette?" 

"About  three  years,  sir." 


THE    PROSECUTION  533 

"Where  did  she  engage  you?" 

"In  France." 

"She  was  traveling  at  the  time,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Was  there  any  other  person  with  her?" 

"Yes." 

"Who  was  it?" 

"I  object — it's  irrevelant,"  shouted  the  state's  attorney. 

"Oh,  let  her  answer,"  said  the  court.  "You  can  answer, 
miss." 

"Alderman  Great." 

"Now,  Miss  Deverioux,  on  the  night  of  the  tragedy  you 
say  you  heard  a  loud  altercation  in  Mrs.  Burdett's  room?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Could  you  distinguish  the  voices?" 

"Yes,  I  knew  who  was  there." 

"Describe  what  you  heard,  if  anything." 

"I  could  not  hear  what  was  said,  but  I  could  hear  loud 
talking." 

"You  could  distinguish  the  male  voice,  I  presume?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Was  he  talking  loud?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Has  the  relationship  between  you  and  Mrs.  Burdett  al- 
ways been  of  a  cordial  character?" 

"Yes,  sometimes  she  was  a  little  irascible,  she  used  to 
have  fits  of  melancholy,  then  she  wasn't  very  sociable." 

"But  otherwise  you  were  always  friendly?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  enjoyed  her  confidence?" 

"Fully." 

"If  I  remember  right,  you  said  that  you  were  in  the  pas- 
sage, you  knew  who  it  was  that  was  in  the  room  ?" 

"Yes." 

"How  did  you  know?" 

"Because  no  gentleman  was  ever  allowed  to  go  into  Mrs. 
Burdett's  room  but  Mr.  Great,  and  that  night  in  particular 
she  was  in  her  night  clothes." 


534  THE    PROSECUTION 

"Yes;  so  I  understand  3^ou  to  say,  you  had  charge  of  her 
wardrobe,  had  vou?" 

"Yes." 

"And  access  to  her  rooms  and  clothes  closets?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Let  me  see  that  revolver,"  speaking  to  the  state's  attor- 
ney. 

"Be  careful,"  said  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution,  "it  is 
still  loaded." 

Going  over  to  the  witness,  King,  holding  the  revolver  in 
his  hand,  said,  "Now  I  am  going  to  ask  you,  Miss  Deverioux, 
did  you  ever  see  that  revolver  before  the  night  of  the  shoot- 
ing?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Did  you  ever  know  your  mistress  to  have  a  revolver?" 

"No,  sir." 

"That's  all." 

"Call  Mrs.  Kline,"  shouted  the  state's  attorney. 

Mrs.  Kline  corroborated  Miss  Deverioux's  statement  as 
to  finding  Florence  with  the  gun  in  her  hand  and  the  declar- 
ation she  made  in  the  presence  of  the  policeman  that  she 
killed  the  deceased. 

"Take  the  witness." 

"You,  I  understand,  acted  as  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Kline?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  of  course  had  free  access  to  all  the  rooms?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Ever  examine  the  drawers,  and  clothes  closets  to  arrange 
the  garments?" 

"No,  sir ;  Miss  Deverioux  attended  to  that.  I  have  gone 
in  and  gathered  up  the  soiled  clothes  to  send  to  the  laundry." 

"Ever  find  a  revolver,  blunderbuss,  or  gatling  gun 
among  them?" 

"No,  sir,"  smiling. 

"That's  all,  Mrs.  Kline." 

Ofificer  Kronan  was  the  next  witness.  He  gave  his  ac- 
count as  to  how  he  found  the  prisoner  and  the  dead  man,  and 
her  admission  as  to  the  killing. 


THE    PROSECUTION  535 

"I  suppose,"  said  King,  in  cross-examination,  "you  didn't 
warn  her  that  any  statement  she  would  make  might  be  used 
against  her?" 

"No,  I  asked  her  who  killed  the  man,  and  she  said  she 
did." 

"Was  she  very  violent?     She  didn't  resist  you,  did  she?" 

"No,  we  just  waited  while  she  got  her  clothes  on  and 
brought  her  away." 

"That's  all." 

"I  just  want  to  ask  you  a  question,"  said  the  counsel  for 
the  prosecution. 

"Did  you  coerce  her  into  making  the  statement  that  she 
killed  him?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Nor  sweat  her  when  you  got  her  to  the  station?"  inquired 
King. 

"No,  we  sent  for  the  county  physician  right  away — she 
was  in  a  collapse." 

The  county  physician  was  the  next  witness.  He  de- 
scribed the  wounds.  "One  bullet  had  pierced  the  deceased 
in  the  chest  and  lodged  against  the  spinal  column,  the  other 
had  struck  him  in  the  face  and  lodged  near  the  base  of  the 
skull ;  either  would  prove  fatal.     I  extracted  the  bullets." 

"Are  those  the  bullets?"  asked  the  state's  attorney,  hand- 
ing him  two  for  examination. 

"Yes,  I  marked  them  when  I  extracted  them." 

"Take  the  witness," 

"I  understand,  doctor,"  said  King,  rising,  "that  you  were 
sent  for  after  the  prisoner  was  brought  to  the  station." 

"Yes." 

"What  condition  did  you  find  her  in?" 

"She  was  completely  prostrated,  as  a  woman  would  be 
who  had  suffered  some  great  mental  shock." 

"Notice  any  marks  about  her?" 

"Her  left  arm  was  red  and  discolored.  I  alsc)  noticed  a 
slight  abrasion  over  her  right  eye  which  became  somewhat 
discolored  afterward." 

"As  if  from  a  bruise,  I  presume.     How  would  you  ac- 


536  THE    PROSECUTION 

count  for  that?" 

"Well,  it  might  happen  many  ways;  she  might  have 
knocked  it  against  something." 

"Might  it  arise  from  a  blow?" 

"Yes." 

"Now.  I'm  going  to  ask  you,"  taking  the  revolver  in  his 
hand  and  holding  the  butt  towards  the  doctor,  "might  not 
a  push  of  this  up  against  the  injured  part  cause  such  an 
abrasion?" 

"Possibly." 

"Not  probably?" 

"Well,  probably  it  could  be  caused  that  way." 

"Doctor,  you've  had  a  good  deal  of  experience  in  your 
time  with  shooting  scrapes  and  guns,  some  of  which  were 
probably  owned  by  ladies?" 

The  doctor  nodding,  "Yes." 

"Now  I  am  ging  to  ask  you,  is  this  the  kind  of  weapon 
that  it  is  customarv  for  ladies  to  purchase?" 

"Well,  hardly."  ' 

"I  suppose  something  with  a  little  pearl  handle  and  a 
barrel  as  long  and  as  thick  as  your  little  finger  is  more  to 
their  taste?" 

The  doctor  smiled,  "Yes." 

"And  then  they  never  have  them  loaded/'  continued  King, 
"for  fear  they  would  go  off — isn't  that  so,  doctor?" 

"Yes,  it's  often  the  case.". 

"That  will  do,  doctor,  thank  you." 

"Bring  in  Mr.  Hooligan,"  said  the  prosecutor. 

Hooligan  took  his  seat  in  the  witness  chair ;  he  seemed 
nervous.  The  state's  attorney  rose  to  examine  him.  "Mr. 
Hooligan,  you're  in  business  on  the  West  Side,  I  under- 
stand ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  were  acquainted  with  both  the  principals  in  this 
case?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"When  did  you  first  become  acquainted  with  the  pris- 
oner?" 


THE    PROSECUTION  537 

"It  was  some  nine  years  ago.     I  first  met  her  at  a  dance." 

"Whom  was  she  with  on  that  occasion  ?" 

"A  man  by  the  name  of  Hart." 

"Did  you  observe  if  she  was  on  good  terms  with  him?" 

"Yes,  very ;  she  danced  with  him  only ;  on  one  occasion  I 
was  in  the  same  set,  then  she  went  to  supper  with  him. 
After  that  I  saw  them  go  away  together." 

"Do  you  of  your  own  knowledge  know  that  she  'cept 
company  with  him?" 

"I  often  heard  him  talk  about  her  as  his  woman." 

The  judge  looked  over  at  King,  expecting  an  objection. 
King's  assistants  both  looked  hard  at  him.  "Let  him  go 
on,"  he  whispered. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  picnic  they  attended  together?" 

"Yes,  and  she  stayed  out  all  night  M-ith  him.  I  heard 
some  young  men  in  my  place  talking  about  it  the  next  day." 

"Did  you  hear  Hart  talk  about  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Any  other  occasion  when  he  was  identified  with  her?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  an  occasion  when  he  told  me  and  others 
in  my  place  that  he  had  a  date  with  her,  and  that  he  and  her 
uncle  had  a  fight.  I  know  her  uncle  got  a  warrant  out  for 
him,  as  two  policemen  came  into  my  place  looking  for  him." 

"You  were  a  close  friend  of  the  alderman's,  I  understand?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Now,  did  the  alderman  ever  express  any  opinion  in  your 
presence  about  her?" 

"Yes,  frequently  ;  he  said  she  was  a  leech  and  he  wished 
he  was  rid  of  her,  but  he  was  afraid  she  might  expose  him 
or  do  him  some  bodily  harm." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  him  say  she  threatened  him?" 

"Well,  not  exactly,  but  I  learned  from  his  conversation 
that  he  was  kind  of  scared  of  her." 

Herman  Wosta  moved  uneasily  in  his  seat  while  Hooli- 
gan was  giving  his  evidence. 

"Now,  I'm  going  to  ask  you  one  more  question,  Mr.  Hoo- 
i'igan.  What  was  the  general  reputation  of  this  man  Hart, 
she  kept  company  with?" 


538  THE    PROSECUTION 

"Bad;  very  bad;  he  was  shot  and  killed  in  a  burglary." 

"So,  before  the  alderman  met  her  she  was  the  associate 
of  thieves?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  the  mistress  of  one  of  them?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Take  the  witness." 

King,  in  his  mildest  tone,  "You're  a  business  man  on  the 
west  side,  I  understand,  Mr.  Hooligan.  Might  I  ask  what 
business  you're  in?" 

"Yes,  sir,  saloon  business." 

"Mr.  Hart  and  the  alderman  both  used  to  frequent  your 
place?" 

"Yes,  sir ;  my  public  house  was  open  to  everybody." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  that,  as  long  as  they  brought  grist  to 
your  mill.    You  know  a  party  by  the  name  of  Rock?" 

"Yes." 

"He  and  the  alderman  used  to  attend  your  place,  too?" 

"Yes,  occasionally." 

"Now,  isn't  it  a  fact  that  Rock  used  to  tend  bar  for  you?" 

"Yes,  when  I  hadn't  another  bartender." 

"I  understand,  you  also  knew  a  Mr.  Bert  and  a  Mr. 
Phipps?" 

"I  object  to  this  line  of  examination,  your  honor,"  said 
the  state's  attorney,  "on  the  ground  it's  irrevelant." 

"Your  honor,"  replied  King,  "I'm  going  to  impugn  the 
evidence  of  this  witness  and  will  establish  its  relevancy  if 
my  distinguished  friend  will  give  me  time." 

"Let  him  answer  the  questions,"  said  the  court. 

"Yes,  I  knew  them." 

"You  also  knew  a  Henry  Mort?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  know  where  he  is  now?" 

"No." 

"Don't  you  know  he's  a  fugitive  from  justice?" 

"So  I  understand." 

"Where  are  Rock,  Bert,  and  Phipps?"     Hooligan  looked 


THE    PROSECUTION  539 

at  the  state's  attorney.  "Come,  answer  the  question,"  cried 
King,  peremptorily. 

"They're  in  the  penitentiary." 

"I  suppose  you  don't  know  where  Hart  and  the  alderman 
are?"  shouted  King. 

"Objection !" 

"Objection  sustained." 

"You  refer  to  a  dance,  Mr.  Hooligan,  where  you  first  be- 
came acquainted  with  Miss  Burdett ;  under  whose  auspices 
,was  that  held?" 

"Some  young  men  in  my  neighborhood." 

"Do  you  remember  the  names  of  any  of  them?" 

"Well,  there  was  quite  a  number  of  them." 

"Name  some  of  them." 

"I  forget." 

"Well,  I'll  jog  vour  memory.  Wasn't  it  the  Five  Jolly 
Boys?" 

"I  believe  it  was." 

"You  weren't  one  of  the  five?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Well,  who  were  they?"  Hooligan  hesitated.  "Come 
now,  you  know  them  all." 

Hooligan  looked  again  at  the  state's  attorney. 

"Answer  my  questions,"  shouted  King,  "or  I  will  have  to 
remind  you.  "Weren't  they  Hart,  Mort,  Rock,  Bert  and 
Phipps,  all  noted  criminals?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  that  was  their  names." 

"Don't  you  know  that  was  their  names,  and  that  you  A\ere 
on  the  management  committee?" 

"Yes,"  he  gasped. 

"That's  a  fine  diamond  you  have  in  your  shirt  front, 
Hooligan,  where  did  you  buy  it?" 

"I  protest  against  this  abuse  of  the  state's  witness," 
shouted  the  attorney  for  the  prosecution. 

"Mr.  King,"  said  the  court,  "you  will  have  to  confine  your- 
self to  proper  questions." 


540  THE   DEFENSE 

"I  thought,  your  honor,  as  his  friends  were  in  the  jewelry- 
business,  he  got  it  cheap.  I'm  through  with  him  for  the 
present,  but  reserve  the  right  to  call  him  again." 

"That  concludes  the  case  for  the  prosecution,  your  honor," 
said  the  state's  attorney.  It  being  long  past  noon,  the 
court  took  a  recess  until  two-thirtv. 


Chapter  LV. 
the  defense. 

The  general  impression  among  those  who  had  attended 
the  morning  session  was  that  the  counsel  for  the  prosecu- 
tion had  made  out  a  strong  case  against  the  defendant. 
That  she  killed  the  alderman  had  been  established  beyond 
dispute ;  her  association  with  Hart  and  men  of  his  class  had 
weaned  some  of  the  sympathy  from  her  as  expressed  by 
many  at  the  commencement  of  the  morning  session. 

Attorney  King's  men,  who  had  mingled  with  the  crowd 
previous  to  the  opening  of  court,  informed  him  of  the 
marked  change.  Airs.  Scully  was  very  much  depressed. 
Herman  Wosta  could  not  disguise  his  anxiety.  When  the 
prisoner  was  brought  in  she  had  the  same  appearance  of 
total  indifference  as  to  the  circumstances  by  which  she  was 
confronted.  On  order  being  established,  Attorney  King 
rose  and  addressed  the  court — 

"May  it  please  your  honor,  gentlemen  of  the  jury — For 
the  purpose  of  simplifying  this  case  I  would  say  that  the 
labored  efforts  on  the  part  of  my  learned  friend  to  establish 
the  fact  as  to  the  deceased  receiving  the  wounds  that  caused 
his  death  at  the  hands  of  my  client  as  superfluous,  that 
fact  has  never  been  disputed,  nor  is  it  the  intention  of  the 
defense  nor  has  it  ever  been  the  desire  to  question  it.  We, 
however,  believe  that  we  have  just  cause  of  complaint 
against  the  prosecution  for  the  determined  eft'ort  they  have 
made  to  place  my  client  in  the  category  of  being  a  vile,  un- 


THE   DEFENSE  541 

scrupulous,  immoral  woman,  even  from  the  time  of  her 
early  childhood.  That  this  has  been  done  for  the  purpose 
of  prejudicing  your  minds  against  her  must  be  apparent  to 
each  and  all  of  you.  We,  however,  take  issue  with  them  on 
this  feature  of  the  case  and  will  endeavor  to  prove  that  she 
was  a  pure,  honest,  industrious  girl,  until  she  innocently, 
and  without  the  slightest  suspicion,  fell  among  thieves  of 
whom  that  man  Hooligan  was  the  friend,  patron  and  com- 
panion, and  will  further  prove  that  those  thieves  preserved 
their  liberty  for  years  to  pursue  their  vicious  calling  through 
the  man  that  an  avenging  God  made  my  client  the  instru- 
ment through  which  to  rid  the  earth.  I  want  you  then,  gen- 
tlemen of  the  jury,  to  rid  your  mind  of  any  settled  convic- 
tion you  may  have  until  the  last  particle  of  evidence  has 
been  heard  and  his  honor  the  court  has  given  you  your  in- 
structions ;  yea,  until  you  assemble  in  the  privacy  of  your 
room  to  fully  and  freely  discuss  the  issues  involved  in  this 
most  important  trial.  You  are  the  sole  judges  of  both  the 
law  and  evidence,  your  decision  in  this  case  is  final.  In  my 
opinion,  unless  my  judgment  based  on  many  years'  experi- 
ence at  the  bar  is  not  at  fault,  my  client  will  be  vindicated 
beyond  a  shadow  of  a  doubt.  Thanking  you  for  your 
marked  attention,  we  will  proceed  with  the  case." 

"Mr.  Hooligan,  take  the  stand."  Hooligan  showed  nerv- 
ousness as  he  took  his  seat. 

"Mr.  Hooligan,  when  was  the  last  occasion  that  you  saw 
Great,  previous  to  the  time  he  met  his  death?" 

"He  was  in  my  house  that  very  night." 

"Had  he  any  drink  in  your  place?" 

"He  had  a  couple  of  drinks,  but  not  to  amount  to  any- 
thing." 

"I  don't  want  your  opinion  as  to  what  they  amounted  to. 
What  was  he  drinking?" 

"He  had  a  couple  of  drinks  of  whiskey." 

"What  time  did  he  arrive  at  your  establishment?" 

"Between  ten  and  eleven — I  don't  remember  the  exact 
time." 

"That's  near  enough;  what  time  did  he  leave?" 


542  THE    DEFENSE 

"As  near  as  I  can  remember  it  was  about  one  o'clock." 

"Were  there  many  in  your  place  that  evening?" 

"Yes,  quite  a  number." 

"The  alderman  was  paying  for  the  drinks,  I  suppose,  as 
they  were  nearly  all  his  constituents?" 

"He  paid  for  quite  a  number." 

"I  agree  with  you  there,  as  he  was  noted  for  his  liberality. 
Now,  he  was  there  between  two  and  three  hours;  how  do 
you  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  he  had  only  a  couple  of 
drinks?" 

"I  don't  keep  tab  on  how  many  drinks  my  customers 
take." 

"You  seem  to  have  done  so  in  this  case,  as  you  swear 
that  he  had  a  couple." 

"Well,  he  may  have  had  more.    I  don't  remember." 

"Would  you  be  surprised  to  learn  that  he  had  nearly  a 
dozen?" 

"I  don't  believe  he  had ;  I  don't  know  exacth^  how  many 
he  had." 

"Any  reference  to  Miss  Burdett  that  night?" 

"No." 

"That,  then,  wasn't  one  of  the  times  you  heard  him  say 
he  wianted  to  get  rid  of  her?" 

"No." 

"It  was  on  former  occasions  you  heard  him  make  that 
declaration?" 

"Yes." 

"That's  all." 

The  state's  attorney  rose. 

"Mr.  Hooligan,  was  Alderman  Great  the  worse  for  drink 
when  he  left  your  place  that  night?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Or  tell  you  where  he  w^as  going?"  inquired  King. 

"No,  sir."    Hooligan  left  the  chair,  to  his  great  relief. 

"Call  Miss  Genevieve  Brown,  bailiff."  Miss  Brown  en- 
tered and  took  the  witness  chair.  She  wore  the  garb  of  a 
nurse.  "Miss  Brown,  I  should  judge  by  your  dress  that  you 
are  a  nurse?" 


THE   DEFENSE  543 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Now  state  how  long  you  have  known  Miss  Burdett,  and 
how  you  first  became  acquainted  with  her?" 

Miss  Brown  told  of  seeking,  and  obtaining  employment 
in  the  Cleveland  store  on  the  very  same  day  Florence  did 
and  how  they  used  to  meet  at  lunch  together. 

"Now,  do  you  remember  shortly  after  you  both  went  to 
work  at  that  establishment  some  talk  in  reference  to  a 
dance?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  was  there." 

"Please  state  how  you  came  to  attend  it?" 

"Miss  Jones  and  Miss  Burdett  and  I  used  to  eat  our  lunch 
together ;  we  became  friends  and  used  to  chat  during  the 
half-hour  allotted.  We  first  heard  the  other  girls  talking 
about  the  dance,  especially  one  Miss  Jenkins.  Her  young 
man  was  one  of  the  managing  committee ;  then  we  learned 
our  establishment  had  purchased  a  number  of  tickets  that 
they  were  going  to  give  to  the  help.  Miss  Jones  and  I  de- 
cided to  go  and  we  pressed  Florence  to  go  with  us.  She 
said  she  had  never  been  to  a  dance  in  her  life  and  her  mother 
wouldn't  be  likely  to  let  her  go,  but  we  prevailed  upon  her 
and  at  last  she  got  her  mother's  consent." 

"You  say  there  were  a  number  of  girls  at  the  store  where 
you  worked.    Did  they  all  fraternize  together?" 

"No,  not  up  to  this  time.  Miss  Jones,  Miss  Burdett  and 
myself  always  kept  to  ourselves." 

"How  was  that?" 

"Well,  some  of  the  girls  seemed  rough  and  there  was  con- 
stant squabbling;  sometimes  their  language  was  not  very- 
edifying  and  Florence  used  to  be  very  much  shocked." 

"Who  gave  you  the  tickets  to  go  to  the  dance?" 

"Mr.  Cohen,  the  floor-walker,  gave  some  and  Miss  Jen- 
kins distributed  quite  a  number." 

"A  nice  dance,  I  suppose?" 

Miss  Brown  smiled  before  answering.  "The  early  part  of 
the  evening  seemed  all  right,  but  it  wound  up  in  a  fearful 
row,  the  policemen  came  and  cleared  the  hall,  and  my  young 
man  lost  his  overcoat." 


544  THE   DEFENSE 

"Indeed!     See  Hooligan  there?"  pointing  to  Him. 

"Yes,  the  row  seemed  to  start  about  his  lady.  He  was  in 
the  thick  of  the  fight  until  some  one  hit  him  on  the  head 
with  a  pop  bottle." 

"See  Rock  and  Hart  there?" 

"Yes,  Hart  was  floor  manager,  but  he  went  away  before 
the  row  started.  Rock  and  Margy  just  got  back,  when  the 
fight  was  underway.     They  had  been  out  somewhere." 

"See  Miss  Burdett  there?" 

Yes,  when  I  first  saw  her  she  was  sitting  beside  Miss 
Jenkins." 

"She  wasn't  dancing  then?" 

"No,  she  couldn't  dance." 

That's  all,  Miss  Brown." 

"You  say  she  wasn't  dancing?"  said  the  prosecuting  at- 
torney. 

"Not  up  to  that  time." 

"Well,  she  danced  afterward,  didn't  she?" 

"Later  in  the  evening  she  may  have  gone  through  some 
of  the  motions,  as  all*  amateurs  have  to  do,  but  would  hardly 
call  that  dancing." 

"That's  all." 

Miss  Mary  Jones  was  called  and  corroborated  Miss 
Brown's  statement  in  every  essential. 

"Call  Margy  Jenkins." 

When  Margy  took  the  chair  Hooligan  gazed  at  her  some 
time  before  he  could  recognize  her  as  the  person  he  had 
seen  in  the  police  court  at  the  time  she  was  suing  Rock  for 
the  support  of  her  child.  The  state's  attorney  went  and  had 
a  whispering"  conversation  with  him. 

King  asked  her  questions  similar  to  those  he  had  asked 
the  two  previous  witnesses,  as  to  her  first  acquaintance  with 
Miss  Burdett  and  the  talk  among  the  girls  as  to  the  dance 
of  the  Five  Jolly  Boys. 

"Did  you  distribute  some  tickets  among  the  girls.  Miss 
Jenkins?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Who  gave  you  the  tickets  to  distribute?" 


THE   DEFENSE  545 

"The  head  of  the  department  I  was  in.  He  told  nie  to 
give  those  to  the  girls  that  wanted  to  go." 

"Did  you  give  some  to  Miss  Burdett?" 

*'I  don't  remember;  there  was  plenty  to  give  around,  all 
the  floor-walkers  had  some  to  give  away." 

"You  attended  the  dance?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"See  Miss  Burdett  there?" 

"Yes,  I  saw  her  come  in ;  she  walked  around  to  get  a  seat 
and  came  and  sat  down  beside  me." 

"Had  she  any  one  with  her,  that  you  observed?" 

"No,  sir,  she  was  alone." 

"Were  you  alone,  too  ?" 

"Yes,  at  that  time ;  my  friend  was  one  of  the  committee 
and  was  assisting  Mr.  Hooligan  at  the  bar." 

"You  saw  Mr.  Hart  there?" 

"Yes,  he  was  chairman  of  the  floor  committee." 

"Speak  to  him  at  all?" 

"Yes,  he  came  over  to  where  Florence  and  I  were  sitting. 
I  introduced  him  to  her." 

"From  the  conversation  they  had  did  you  form  an  opinion 
whether  he  had  ever  met  her  before?" 

"Certainly ;  he  never  met  her  befofe." 

"You're  sure  of  that?" 

"Positive." 

"Do  you  remember  any  of  the  conversation  that  took 
place  between  them  ?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  telling  him  that  she  didn't  dance ;  he 
said  she  would  never  learn  sooner.  After  we  had  talked 
some  time  Alderman  Great  came  into  the  hall  and  Hart  and 
a  number  of  others  went  over  to  where  he  was." 

"Well,  what  happened  after  that?" 

"Well,  when  they  began  to  get  ready  for  the  grand  march 
Mr.  Rock  came  over  and  took  me.  Hart  was  arranging  the 
couples.  He  brought  a  young  fellow  by  the  name  of  Smith, 
and  made  Florence  take  him  for  a  partner." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'made?'   Didn't  she  go  willingly?" 

"He  coaxed  her,  at  the  same  time  catching  her  by  the  arm 


546  THE   DEFENSE 

and  pulling  her  from  where  she  had  been  sitting.  He  placed 
hei  arm  in  Smith's  and  shoved  them  in  behind  me  and  Rock. 
The  couple  behind  us  protested,  the  woman  insisting  they 
should  go  to  the  rear;  you  see  the  line  was  nearly  formed 
at  the  time  and  we  were  near  the  front." 

"Well,  what  happened  after  the  grand  march?" 

'_'We  formed  for  a  quadrille.  Hart  came  and  pushed  Smith 
aside  and  grabbed  Florence  and  held  her  until  Alderman 
Great  and  the  woman  who  led  the  grand  march  with  him, 
Hooligan  and  his  partner.  Rock  and  myself,  with  her  and 
Hart  formed  the  set.  Florence  protested  she  could  not 
dance  and  wanted  to  go  and  sit  down,  but  Hart  wouldn't  let 
her." 

"She  danced  then?" 

"Well,  she  did  the  best  she  could,  but,  as  she  didn't  know 
anything  about  dancing  Hart  had  to  guide  her  just  as  he 
wanted — he  was  an  excellent  dancer." 

"Well,  what  then?" 

"Then  Hart  proposed  to  take  her  to  supper.  She  wanted 
to  go  home.  I  told  her  to  come  along,  Rock  and  I  were  go- 
ing, and  it  was  still  quite  early ;  she  still  protested,  but  we  all 
coaxed  her  to  come  and  she  finally  went  with  us." 

"Any  drink  at  the  supper?" 

"Yes,  the  alderman  sent  a  bottle  of  champagne  over  to 
where  Hart  and  we  were  sitting." 

"Did  you  all  partake  of  the  champagne?" 

"Yes,  Florence  didn't  care  for  hers,  but  Hart  told  her  it 
was  harmless." 

"Well,  what  took  place  after  supper?" 

"As  we  went  down  the  band  was  playing  a  schottische, 
Hart  caught  hold  of  Florence  and  whirled  her  around  before 
she  could  object;  Rock  and  I  were  in  the  same  dance;  after 
that  she  would  insist  on  going  home.  Hart  tried  to  prevail 
upon  her  to  stay  and  so  did  Rock.  I  told  her  it  was  too 
eaily,  but  she  would  insist  upon  going.  She  said  she  would 
find  her  way,  that  I  needn't  come,  so  when  Hart  saw  she 
was  determined  to  go  he  said,  'Wait  till  I  get  my  hat  and 


THE    DEFENSE  547 

we'll  see  you  part  of  the  way.'  When  he  returned  we  started 
out  together." 

"Where  did  you  go  then?" 

"We  Walked  up  Milwaukee  Avenue,  until  we  came  in 
front  of  a  saloon,  Hart  said,  'We  will  go  in  here — a  friend  of 
mine  keeps  this  place.'  Florence  wouldn't  go.  'My  mother 
will  never  forgive  me,  Margy,  for  being  out  so  late."  she 
said.  'Come  on,'  said  Hart,  'we  won't  stay  a  minute,  and 
then  we'll  see  you  part  of  the  way.'  She  said.  'No.  I'll  go 
myself.'  Hart  caught  her  by  the  arm  and  pushed  her  in 
before  him." 

"Go  on,"  said  King,  as  Margy  seemed  to  stop  as  if  to  get 
her  breath,  "what  took  place  there?" 

"Well,  Hart  ordered  some  drinks,  he  and  Rock  took 
whiskey,  I  wanted  a  milk  punch,  Florence  said  she  wouldn't 
take  anything.  Hart  persisted  she  must  have  something. 
'Well,  I'll  take  some  milk  like  Margaret,'  said  Florence. 
Hart  ordered  the  two  whiskies  and  the  two  milk  punches ; 
as  he  did  so,  he  winked  at  the  waiter  and  said.  'Put  plenty  of 
m.ilk  in  this  lady's,'  referring  to  Florence."  At  this  remark 
all  the  jury  bent  forward  in  their  seats. 

"Do  you  know  what  he  meant  by  this  significant  remark?" 

"Yes." 

"What  was  it?" 

"To  put  an  extra  quantity  of  liquor  in  it." 

There  was  quite  a  commotion  amongst  the  audience, 
many  of  the  women  were  heard  to  sigh. 

"Did  she  drink  it?" 

"The  first  mouthful  she  took  rnade  her  cough  violently. 
She  said  she  didn't  like  it.  Hart  laughed  at  her  and  told  her 
to  drink  it  up  and  then  we'd  go.  She  didn't  want  to,  but  he 
pressed  her  until  she  did.  Then  I  left  the  room  and  Rock 
followed  me." 

"Where  did  you  go?" 

"Into  the  next  compartment." 

"Could  you  hear  any  sound,  anything  unusual,  going  on 
in  the  room  you  left?" 


548  THE   DEFENSE 

"Yes,  a  violent  commotion,  as  if  two  people  were  strug- 
gling." 

"Hear  any  screaming?" 

"No;  just  as  if  somebody  was  being  choked." 

"Did  the  struggle  you  mention  seem  to  last  any  time?" 

"It  seemed  about  a  minute,  and  then  all  was  still." 

"When  you  re-entered  the  room  what  did  you  observe?" 

"There  was  a  chair  lying  on  the  floor,  the  table  had  been 
shoved  aside." 

"Where  was  Florence?" 

"She  had  her  head  on  the  table  and  was  crying.  Hart 
was  standing  over  her  trying  to  get  her  to  take  a  drink,  but 
she  ran  out  of  the  saloon." 

"Where  did  you  go  then?" 

"Rock  and  I  went  back  to  the  dance." 

"Take  the  witness." 

The  state's  attorney  rose  to  cross-examine.  "Are  you  a 
married  woman?" 

"No,  sir." 

"What  family  have  you?" 

"One  boy." 

"Who  is  the  reputed  father  of  your  boy?" 

"Mr.  Rock." 

"Now,  isn't  it  a  fact  that  you  tried  to  prove  that  in  the 
justice  court,  and  the  judge  decided  against  you?" 

"Yes  ;  but " 

"Never  mind  your  'buts,'  you've  answered  the  question." 

Margy  wanted  to  persist  in  giving  an  explanation,  the 
state's  attorney  wouldn't  allow  her.  The  court  at  length  in- 
terefered,  "Miss  Jenkins,  you  confine  yourself  to  the  ques- 
tion asked."    Margy  looked  appealingly  at  the  judge. 

"How  long  did  you  cohabit  with  Rock?" 

"Until  a  short  time  before  our  baby  was  born." 

"From  first  to  last,  how  long?" 

"About  three  years." 

"You  knew  what  kind  of  a  man  Rock  was  all  that  time  ?" 

"No,  I  didn't ;  he  told  me  he  was  a  bartender." 

"What  were  you  and  Rock  doing  in  the  room?" 


THE   DEFENSE  549 

"Object,"  shouted  King. 

"Objection  sustained." 

"Well,  you  were  listening.  How  could  you  hear  the  dis- 
turbance going  on  in  another  room?" 

"There  was  only  a  thin  wooden  partition  between  the 
two  rooms." 

The  state's  attorney  held  a  whispered  conversation  with 
his  two  colleagues,  then  raising  his  head,  said,  "That's  all." 
Margy  rose  as  if  to  leave  the  chair. 

"Wait  a  moment,  Miss  Jenkins.  I  want  to  ask  you  a 
question  I  overlooked.  Who  was  this  Smith  I  heard  you 
mention,  that  Hart  introduced  Miss  Burdett  to  before  the 
grand  march,"  said  King. 

"A  young  thief ;  he  was  arrested  that  night  for  stealing  a 
man's  watch." 

"How  old  were  you  when  you  first  met  Rock?" 

"Just  gone  sixteen." 

"How  did  you  first  become  acquainted  with  him?" 

"At  a  Saturday  night  dance." 

"Did  he  take  you  out  and  treat  you?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  then  mistreat  you?" 

Margy  held  down  her  head. 

"Come,  now.  Miss  Jenkins,  it  pains  me  to  have  to  ask  you 
these  questions ;  but  I  see  you  are  a  brave  woman,  so 
answer." 

"Yes,  sir."  When  Margy  raised  hen  head  she  was  in 
tears. 

"Compose  yourself,"  said  the  judge,  "and  take  your  time." 
Margy  wiped  her  eyes. 

"I  see  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution  refers  to  you  bring- 
ing Rock  into  court  to  establish  the  parentage  of  your  child. 
Do  you  remember  how  the  case  went  against  you?" 

"Hooligan  was  there  to  give  a  good  character  to  Rock, 
and  he  had  a  number  of  young  hoodlums  there  to  swear 
against  me." 

"Did  you  notice  that  the  alderman  was  there  that  day?  I 
mean  the  man  that  bought  the  champagne  at  the  supper?" 


550  THE   DEFENSE 

"Yes,  sir,  he  was  talking  to  Hooligan  and  the  young  fel- 
lows." 

"Do  you  see  Hooligan  in  court  now?" 

"Yes,  that's  he,"  pointing  at  the  groggery  keeper. 

"That's  all."  Margy  left  the  chair  to  her  great  relief,  "A 
brave  little  woman,"  King  whispered  to  Mrs.  Scully,  "she's 
won  the  day.  We  must  have  Rock  here,  however,  to  cor- 
roborate her  statement."  Turning  to  Nomolos,  "Go  over 
and  tell  Mr.  Scully,  then  you  and  he  go  and  see  the  sheriff 
and  get  a  requisition  from  the  judge — he'll  grant  it." 

"Call  Miss  Mary  Vann."  When  IVIiss  Vann  took  her  seat 
King  asked  her  her  business  and  how  she  became  acquainted 
with  Miss  Burdett,  which  is  already  known  to  our  readers ; 
also  of  their  first  meeting  with  the  alderman  and  on  the 
occasion  of  their  attending  the  grand  opera,  and  of  the 
alderman  sending  theatre  tickets  to  Florence. 

"Now,  Miss  Vann,  did  Miss  Burdett  ever  speak  to  you 
about  a  person  by  the  name  of  Hart?" 

"Yes,  frequently ;  she  told  me  of  her  trouble  and  how  he 
had  abused  her." 

"Did  you  ever  meet  Hart?" 

"Yes,  on  four  occasions  —  once  when  he  came  into  the 
store ;  at  the  picnic  given  by  the  firm ;  another  time  when  he 
tried  to  accost  her  on  the  street,  and  finally  when  he  was 
questioned  by  the  chief  of  police  after  Florence  had  been 
missed." 

"What  did  you  do  on  the  occasion  when  he  accosted  you 
and  her  on  the  street?" 

"I  threatened  him  that  if  he  molested  any  of  our  girls  I 
would  have  him  arrested." 

"What  did  Miss  Burdett  do  on  that  occasion?" 

"She  took  refuge  behind  me.  She  was  afraid  of  him, 
she  began  to  tremble  as  soon  as  she  saw  him." 

"What  did  he  say  when  you  cowed  him?" 

"He  said  he  would  see  her  later  and  left." 

"Do  you  remember  having  a  conference  with  her  after 
that,  when  a  suggestion  was  made  of  bringing  a  third  party 


THE   DEFENSE  551 

in  who  might  use  his  influence  to  prevent  him  from  perse- 
cuting her?" 

"Yes." 

"State  how  it  came  about." 

"She  told  me  that  she  had  met  Alderman  Great  while  out 
at  lunch  one  day  and  that  he  told  her  Hart  was  talking 
about  her  in  a  saloon.  The  alderman  said  he  would  try 
and  persuade  Hart  to  let  her  alone.  She  told  me  a  few  days 
later  that  the  alderman  had  interfered  in  her  behalf,  but  had 
also  frightened  her  with  his  suggestive  remarks." 

"Do  you  remember  visiting  the  police  station  at  a  time 
after  she  had  been  missing?" 

"Yes,  her  mother,  her  uncle,  and  a  Mrs.  Long  were  pres- 
ent. We  told  the  officer,  the  chief  of  police  I  believe  they 
called  him,  of  her  leaving  the  store,  as  we  presumed,  to  go 
home  and  that  she  had  not  arrived  there  up  to  that  time ; 
and  that  we  were  anxious  about  her  and  wanted  him  to  try 
and  find  her.  We  gave  a  full  description  of  her  and  the 
clothes  she  wore.  I  believe  we  went  twice.  On  one  occa- 
sion her  uncle  mentioned  the  name  of  Hart.  As  soon  as  he 
did  the  officer  said  he  thought  he  had  a  clew.  We  learned 
afterward  that  a  detective  by  the  narne  of  McCarthy  had 
located  her,  that  she  eloped  with  a  man." 

"At  that  time  was  the  name  of  the  man  mentioned?" 

"No,  but  I  had  my  suspicions." 

"Well,  you  know  suspicions  don't  count,  Miss  Vann.  I 
think  that's  all." 

The  state's  attorney  had  no  questions  to  ask. 

"Call  Officer  McCarthy."  As  soon  as  McCarthy  was 
seated.  King  said,  "You're  a  police  officer,  I  see?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Where  are  you  stationed  now?" 

"Hyde  Park." 

"Where  were  you  located  on  the July,  188 — ?" 

"Headquarters." 

"Do  you  remember  the  occasion  of  a  young  woman  being 
missing  about  that  time?" 

"Yes,  sir,  perfectly." 


552  THE   DEFENSE 

"How  did  you  become  familiar  with  the  incident.' 

"I  was  detailed  to  find  her." 

"Well,  tell  the  jury  what  you  remember  in  connection 
with  it." 

"We  started  out  first  to  search  the  resorts  and  hospitals, 
thinking  she  might  either  have  gone  astray  or  got  injured, 
but  could  find  no  trace  of  her.  After  a  futile  search  of  a 
few  days  the  chief  called  me  in,  and  said :  'Mack,  I  can  put 
you  on  a  trail — I  want  you  to  go  work  it  out.'  He  then  told 
me  of  her  and  Hart's  association.  I  said,  'You're  wrong, 
chief;  she's  not  with  Hart.  You  know  since  the  time  you 
told  me  to  keep  an  eye  on  him  I've  always  kept  him  in  view.' 
'You're  right.  Mack,  I  know  she's  not  with  him.'  He  then 
recounted  to  me  an  incident  that  happened  in  his  office, 
some  time  before,  how  Alderman  Great  requested  him  to 
bluff  Hart  so  that  he  would  let  some  girl  alone.  I  remem- 
bered the.  time  he  told  me  to  tell  Hart  to  come  in,  he  wanted 
him.  That  was  shortly  after  he  got  out  of  prison.  Well,  I 
saw  Hart  and  told  him." 

"When  you  went  to  seek  him  where  did  you  find  him?" 

"At  Hooligan's." 

"Well,  go  on." 

"It  was  either  the  next  day  or  the  day  after  the  chief 
called  me  into  his  office.  Hart  was  seated  there.  The  chief 
said,  'You  know  Hart,  Mac?'  I  said  I  did.  'Well,'  he  said, 
'he  and  I  have  come  to  a  little  understanding  about  an  affair, 
but  I  want  you  to  keep  track  of  him,  because  I  don't  know 
how  soon  I  may  have  to  bring  him  in.'  I  remember  par- 
ticularly he  would  not  allow  Hart  to  talk.  'Enough,'  he 
said,  holding  up  his  hand  ;  'show  Hart  to  the  door.'  I  saw 
Hart  was  mad,  but  the  chief  seemed  determined.  Well, 
this  day  when  he  put  me  on  the  right  track,  he  told  me  why 
he  had  Hart  in.  It  was  to  do  the  alderman  a  favor ;  after 
he  told  me  the  story." 

"I  just  want  to  ask  you  a  question  right  here,"  said  King, 
"at  the  time  of  Hart  and  the  chief's  interview,  did  he  men- 
tion the  name  of  the  alderman  or  the  young  lady  in  the 
case?" 


THE    DEFENSE  553 

"No,  sir;  and  of  course  T  didn't  ask  him,  I  was  just  fol- 
lowing instructions." 

"Now  go  on  where  you  left  off?" 

"Well,  as  I  said,  after  he  told  me  this  story  he  said,  'You 
find  out  if  Great  has  left  the  city.  If  not,  you  just  find  him 
and  I'll  bet  she's  not  far  ofif.'  So  I  set  out  and  could  get  no 
information — no  one  had  seen  him  for  some  days.  'He's 
gone,'  I  thought  to  myself,  and  so  reported  to  the  chief  that 

he  must  have  left  about  the  because  no  one  saw  him 

after  five  that  evening.  I  thinks  to  myself,  if  he  left  that 
night  it  w^as  on  a  late  train,  and  if  she  was  wath  him  it  was 
after  seven  in  the  evening,  as  she  didn't  leave  the  store  until 
after  six,  and  then  probably  they  went  somewhere  to  have 
supper,  so  I  made  a  tour  of  the  sw^ell  restaurants.  No  trace 
of  him.  I  then  visited  some  hotels  Avhere  they  have  private 
dining  rooms.  At  length  I  found  a  waiter  who  had  served  a 
couple  answ^ering  the  description.  I  asked  him  as  to  what 
drink  they  had.  He  told  the  man,  whoever  he  was,  was  a 
sport  and  high-roller,  as  he  had  had  two  quarts  of  champagne 
on  ice  before  the  woman  arrived.  I  asked  him  if  he  had 
heard  any  of  their  conversation.  He  told  me  that  after  they 
drank  the  first  bottle  he  began  to  talk  about  her  going  some- 
where wnth  him,  but  she  wouldn't  listen  to  him.  She  only 
laughed  at  him.  I  asked  him  if  the  man  was  very  pressing. 
He  said  yes,  at  first.  About  ten  o'clockhe  seemed  to  give  h 
up  as  no  go.  About  ten-thirty  the  woman  began  to  show 
the  efifect  of  the  drink.  He  informed  me  that  a  short  time 
before  they  left  the  dining-table  he  heard  him  say,  'Well, 
you'll  see  me  off,  anyway?'    She  said  she  would." 

"Did  he  inform  you  as  to  her  condition  before  she  left?" 

"Yes,  he  said  she  w^as  intoxicated.  He  noticed  her  trying 
to  put  on  her  hat  backside  foremost.  I  then  told  him  my 
mission — the  woman  was  lost." 

"What  did  he  say  then?" 

"He  said,  'Well,  she  didn't  go  with  that  fellow,  because  I 
knew^  she  would  not  listen  to  the  proposal.'  I  found  out 
from  him  what  time  they  left  the  hotel — it  was  about  eleven- 
fifteen." 


554  THE   DEFENSE 

"Well,  what  then?" 

"I  consulted  the  railway  guides  as  to  the  departure  of 
trains,  found  the  Pennsylvania  flyer  left  at  eleven  forty-five, 
went  over  and  consulted  the  crew,  found  one  of  the  colored 
men  that  stands  at  the  entrance  to  the  car.  He  remembered 
a  couple  answering  the  description  boarding  his  car.  The 
woman  was  so  much  the  worse  for  drink  tliat  she  had  to  be 
assisted  into  the  car.  The  man  presented  a  ticket  for  the 
parlor,  they  both  occupied  it  during  the  night.  I  al^o  con- 
sulted one  of  the  dining-car  men  who  had  brought  them 
their  breakfast  in  the  morning.  He  told  me  the  woman  was 
very  much  excited.  He  judged  it  was  an  elopement  and 
that  she  had  rued  her  part  in  it,  as  she  never  left  the  parlor 
during  the  entire  journey  and  was  in  very  bad  shape.  I 
consulted  others  of  the  crew,  especially  the  porter  who  made 
up  the  beds.  Satisfied  that  the  identification  was  complete 
I  reported  to  the  chief.  He  called  her  friends  in,  informed 
them  of  the  facts,  and  the  subject  was  dropped." 

"Do  you  know  the  reputation  of  the  house  that  Hooligan 
keeps,  I  mean  the  reputation  as  known  to  the  police?" 

"Yes." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Bad ;  it  was  the  resort  of  thieves  and  bums." 

"Hart  used  to  hold  out  there,  I  believe?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  Rock  and  a  number  of  other  noted  crim- 
inals," 

"That's  all." 

The  state's  attorney  put  McCarthy  through  a  vigorous 
cross-examination  but  in  no  way  shook  his  testimony. 

"Call  John  Kramer."  A  middle-aged  man  took  the  chair. 
"What's  your  business,  Mr.  Kramer?" 

"Waiter." 

"Where  were  you  employed  July,  188 — ?" 

"At  the  Scynthia  hotel." ' 

"In  what  capacity?" 

"Waiter." 

"Do  you  remember  the  incident  of  a  woman  being  missing 
about  that  time?" 


THE    DKFRNSE  555 

"I  do." 

"What  called  your  attention  to  it?" 

"It  was  in  all  the  newspapers,  and  a  policeman  inter- 
viewed me  as  to  a  couple  who  dined  at  the  hotel  one  night." 

"Do  you  think  you  could  recognize  the  policeman  if  you 
saw  him?" 

"Probably." 

"Stand  up,  McCarthy.     Is  that  the  man  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  gave  him  the  facts  as  you  observed  them  on  that 
occasion  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Please  state  them  to  the  jury."  Kramer  substantiated 
McCarthy's  testimony.  "You  told  the  officer  at  the  time 
that  you  were  confident  the  woman  did  not  go  away  with 
the  man?" 

"Yes,  that  was  my  belief  at  the  time." 

"What  led  you  to  form  that  opinion?" 

"From  the  conversation  I  heard.  She  had  no  notion  of 
going  with  him." 

"Did  you  know  the  parties  at  the  time?" 

"No,  sir,  but  I  found  out  afterward." 

"How  did  you  find  out?" 

"By  identifying  a  picture  of  the  woman  as  it  appeared  in 
the  papers,  and  hearing  talk  of  who  the  man  was.  I  saw  the 
man  often  afterward." 

"Look  around  and  see  if  you  can  identify  the  woman  in 
court." 

Kramer  looked  at  Florence  for  some  moments  and  then 
said,  "It  was  some  years  ago,  and  the  woman  has  changed 
some,  but  I  am  confident  that's  she,"  pointing  at  Florence. 

"Take  the  witness." 

The  state's  attorney  in  examining  Kramer  injured  his 
own  case.  Kramer  in  answering  his  query  as  to  Florence's 
condition,  said  she  was  so  far  gone  before  she  left  the  place 
that  he  didn't  believe  she  knew  where  she  was  going. 

"That's  all." 

"In  your  opinion  then,  Mr.  Kramer,"  said  King,  "when 


556  THE    CLOSE   OF   THE    CASE 

she  left  she  wasn't  in  a  condition  to  be  responsible  for  her 
actions." 

"No,  sir." 

"That's  all.  Your  Honor,  it  is  now  late,  and  as  we  have 
one  more  witness  that  we  will  be  unable  to  put  on  till  the 
morning,  I  respectfully  ask  an  adjournment." 

"Yes,  it's  about  time,"  said  the  court,  looking  up  at  the 
clock;  "the  court  stands  adjourned." 

The  experience  of  the  day  had  told  heavily  on  the  prisoner. 
It  was  a  great  relief  to  her  when  she  reached  her  cell  and 
threw  herself  on  her  cot.  Mrs.  Scully  decided  to  stay  with 
her  for  a  couple  of  hours.  After  Florence  was  somewhat 
rested  Mrs.  Scully  asked  her  if  she  ever  prayed. 

"No,  I  have  tried  to." 

"Well,  let  us  offer  up  a  prayer."  Mrs.  Scully  knelt  by  the 
cot  and  prayed  long  and  fervently  that  God  in  His  infinite 
mercy  would  come  to  the  rescue  of  her  poor  unfortunate 
sister. 


Chapter  LVI. 
the  close  of  the  case, 

It  was  the  general  impression  that  the  case  might  close 
on  the  same  day  the  defense  examined  its  last  witness. 
Great  crowds  surged  towards  the  criminal  court,  bailiffs 
were  stationed  at  the  entrance  of  the  building  to  preserve 
order  and  to  prevent  overcrowding. 

John  Long  and  his  wife  stood  close  to  the  entrance  of 
the  building  as  soon  as  admission  was  allowed,  and  secured 
good  seats  close  to  the  rail.  Mary  Vann  brought  Miss 
Jenkins.  She  had  her  boy  with  her.  Miss  Brown  and  Miss 
Jones  came  together ;  the  bailiff  at  the  door  told  them  there 
was  hardly  any  room  left.  "I  am  a  professional  nurse," 
said  Miss  Brown,  "and  my  services  may  be  required  here." 

"Well,  you  can  go  in,  but  what  about  this  other  young 


THE    CLOSE   OF   THE    CASE  557 

"She's  my  assistant." 

"Ah,  all  right,  go  ahead." 

When  the  attorney  for  the  defense  arrived  he  was  accom- 
panied by  an  old  man  whose  locks  were  white  as  snow,  an 
old,  feeble  woman  and  another  woman  well  up  in  years. 

King  conducted  the  aged  couple,  the  old  lady  leaning 
on  his  arm.  He  got  chairs  for  them  a  little  away  from 
where  he  sat,  and  placed  them  right  in  front  of  the  jury.  It 
began  to  be  whispered  about  that  they  were  the  grand- 
parents of  the  prisoner. 

Mike  Scully  and  Herman  Wosta  came  in  by  the  entrance 
from  the  jail,  the  sheriff  with  them ;  Herman  went  over  and 
spoke  to  his  mother,  Scully  shook  hands  with  them  both, 
and,  after  exchanging  a  few  words  with  the  old  man,  took 
his  seat.  Conversation  could  be  heard  in  all  parts  of  the 
room,  which  was  crowded  to  suffocation,  a  number  having 
to  stand  behind  the  seats.  Bailiffs  were  there  lining  them 
up  against  the  wall.  At  length  the  judge  appeared,  coming 
from  his  chamber  accompanied  by  five  men  and  two  women. 
Seats  were  provided  for  them  in  the  rear  of  where  he  sat. 
It  was  whispered  that  one  of  the  women  was  the  judge's 
wife,  the  other  a  friend  of  hers.  There  was  great  turmoil 
outside  the  door  of  the  courtroom,  for,  in  spite  of  the  effort 
of  the  bailiffs,  or  perhaps  with  their  connivance,  a  number 
of  people  had  reached  the  floor  on  which  the  courtroom  was 
situated. 

The  jury  filed  in  and  took  their  places.  There  was  a  very 
sober  look  on  all  their  faces,  none  of  them  seemed  to  want 
to  converse  with  his  neighbor.  The  prisoner  was  seen  en- 
tering with  her  escort.  She  had  on  a  heavy  veil.  As  she 
advanced  she  was  seen  to  start  back  and  lean  heavily  on  the 
woman  whose  arm  supported  her.  The  elderly  woman 
whom  King  had  provided  with  a  seat  was  wiping  her  eyes. 
Florence  seemed  to  have  steadied  herself  and  was  gazing 
directly  at  her.  As  soon  as  Florence  was  seated  King  told 
Mrs.  Scully  to  remove  her  veil. 

A  bailiff"  rapped  for  order  and  announced  that  the  court 
was  now  in  session.    King  rose. 


558  THE    CLOSE    OF   THE    CASE 

"Bring  in  John  Rock."  Rock  was  seen  coming  from  the 
same  entrance  as  did  the  prisoner.  There  was  a  bailiff  on 
each  side  of  him.  As  soon  as  he  took  his  seat,  he  looked 
around  the  courtroom  and,  seeing  Hooligan,  grinned  and 
nodded  to  him.  Hooligan  hadn't  observed  him.  Rock  next 
noticed  Scully,  Wosta  and  McCarthy,  who  were  seated  to- 
gether. He  nodded  to  them  and  they  returned  his  nod  and 
smiled  good-naturedly. 

"What's  your  name?" 

"John  Rock." 

"You're  living  out  of  the  city  at  present,  Mr.  Rock?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  grinning. 

"You  were  acquainted  with  a  man  by  the  name  of  Hart, 
now  deceased?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  remember  the  occasion  of  his  death?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  looking  at  Wosta. 

"Please,  when  you  are  giving  your  testimony,  face  the 
jury.  You  have  some  acquaintance  with  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Now  state  to  the  jury  when  you  first  became  acquainted 
with  her,  and  the  events  of  interest  that  took  place  on  that 
occasion ;  take  your  time,  and  make  the  statement  as  fully 
as  you  can." 

Rock  told  his  story  very  similar  to  that  recounted  by 
Miss  Jenkins,  giving  a  vivid  description  of  what  he  could 
hear  of  the  struggle  between  Hart  and  the  prisoner  in  the 
wineroom.  King  from  time  to  time  asked  him  questions,  so 
as  to  impress  the  details.  There  was  breathless  silence  in 
court  during  this  narrative,  the  jury  staring  at  him  intently. 

"When  Miss  Burdett  ran  out  of  the  saloon  you  went  back 
to  the  dance.  I  understand  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"See  Hooligan  there?"' 

"Yes." 

"There  was  a  row  there?" 

"Your  Honor,  I  should  like  to  ask  of  the  counsel  for  the 


THE    CLOSE    OF    THE    CASE  559 

defense  what  bearing  this  has  on  the  case?"  said  the  counsel 
for  the  prosecution. 

"I  want  to  establish  the  respectability  of  the  event,"  said 
King-,  turning  to  him,  "and  especially  that  of  your  witness, 
Mr.  Hooligan." 

"Proceed  with  the  case,"  said  the  judge. 

"Please  read  that  question,"  said  King,  addressing  one  of 
the  stenographers.    "There  was  a  row  there?" 

"Yes,  when  I  got  in  Moll  Runt,  that's  Hooligan's  woman, 
and  Sneakv  Mike's  woman  was  pulling  one  another's  hair. 
Moll  Runt'  called  " 

"I  object,"  shouted  King,  holding  up  his  hand  for  Rock 
to  desist. 

"What?"  said  the  state's  attorney,  jumping  to  his  feet; 
"object  to  the  testimony  of  your  own  witness?" 

"Yes,  until  the  women  in  the  courtroom  are  asked  to 
retire.  I  see  a  number  of  eminently  respectable  ladies  pres- 
ent, and  on  the  ground  of  public  morality  will  ask  his  honor 
to  exclude  them  if  the  language  used  between  Hooligan's 
woman  and  Sneaky's  woman  has  to  be  gone  over." 

"Perhaps  it  is  not  at  all  necessary,"  said  the  judge,  first 
looking  at  King,  then  at  the  state's  attorney  who  had  sat 
down.  "There  was  a  row  there,  anyhow;  Miss  Brown  testi- 
fied to  that." 

"You  remember  a  picnic,  Mr.  Rock ;  please  inform  the 
jury  as  to  any  matter  of  interest  that  took  place  there  in 
which  the  prisoner  and  Hart  can  be  identified." 

He  gave  his  version  of  the  story,  telling  of  Hart's  atten- 
tion to  her  and  her  uncle  Wosta  and  of  the  fake  bet  which 
was  made,  as  he  put  it,  "to  jolly  her  and  her  uncle." 

"I  understand  the  young  lady  you  professed  to  wager  on 
and  you  had  a  difference  afterward?" 

"Yes,  we  had  a  falling  out." 

"She  sued  you  in  court,  I  understand,  as  the  reputed 
fathei  of  her  child  and  that  you  beat  her?" 

"No,  I  didn't  beat  her ;  I  was  never  asked  to  testify." 

"L-.  that  so?    How  did  she  come  to  lose  the  case  then?" 

"The  alderman  and  Hooligan  sazv  the  judge." 


560  THE    CLOSE   OF   THE    CASE 

"Your  Honor,"  shouted  the  state's  attorney,  "I  would  be 
derelict  in  my  duty  if  I  permitted  the  aspersion  of  the  hon- 
ored judiciary  of  this  county  to  go  unchallenged."  Rock 
looked  at  the  state's  attorney. 

"Please  look  straight  at  the  jury,"  said  King.  There  was 
a  tittering  in  court  at  this  remark  that  made  King  smile, 
even  the  judge  had  recognized  Rock's  squint.  Rock's  face 
flushed  perceptibly. 

"Never  mind,  Mr.  Rock;  you  pay  attention  to  me.  Have 
you  seen  the  child  recently?" 

"Yes.  Margy  brought  him  twice  to  see  me  while  I  was  in 
the  county  jail." 

"And  of  course  you  recognized  whose  boy  he  was?" 

"Yes." 

"He's  a  fine  fellow  now,"  said  King,  looking  over  at  the 
boy  who  was  standing  by  his  mother.  Rock  looked  in  the 
direction  of  the  child — the  little  fellow  looked  towards  the 
witness,  the  jury  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  boy — the 
resemblance  was  most  striking,  even  to  the  cast  in  his  eyes. 
Some  of  the  jury  was  seen  to  be  whispering  to  one  another. 
The  judge's  wife  and  her  lady  friend  stood  up  to  get  a  bet- 
ter view  of  the  youngster.  Even  Rock's  hardened  heart  was 
touched ;  he  brushed  his  hair  from  his  forehead.  King 
paused  for  a  few  moments,  so  that  the  identification  might 
be  complete. 

"Grand  stand  play,"  muttered  the  state's  attorney,  in  an 
audible  whisper.  King  began  to  sort  some  of  his  papers  so 
as  to  give  Rock  some  time  to  gaze  on  Margy  and  her  young- 
ster. A  friendly  glance  was  exchanged  between  him  and 
the  woman  he  had  wronged,  and  all  within  observation 
noticed  it.  The  judge  turned  his  head  away  so  as  not  to  be 
suspected  of  paying  attention  to  it.  His  wife,  however,  a 
woman  of  generous  heart,  was  seen  to  be  whispering  to  her 
friend  and  the  gentlemen  behind  the  judge  seemed  to  be 
interested  in  the  episode. 

"What  was  your  occupation,  Mr.  Rock?" 

"Bartender." 

"Whom  did  you  tend  bar  for?" 


THE    CLOSE   OF    THE    CASE  561 

"On  and  off  for  ten  years  for  Mr.  Hooligan." 

"And  you  and  Hart  used  to  be  very  close  friends?" 

"Yes,  sir,  we  roomed  together  and  slept  in  one  bed." 

"Ever  hear  him  refer  to  Miss  Burdett  after  the  picnic?" 

"Yes,  often." 

"What  w^as  the  line  of  conversation  as  far  as  you  remem- 
ber?" 

"Why,  he  said  he'd  make  her  like  him." 

"That  was  after  he  assaulted  her?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"He  persisted  in  pursuing  her?" 

"He  did." 

"Now,  Mr.  Rock,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  one  more  ques- 
tion ;  from  knowledge  learned  by  your  association  with,  and 
conversation  you  may  have  had,  with  the  late  Mr.  Hart,  was 
Florence  Burdett  a  voluntary  associate  of  Hart's?" 

"No,  sir;  she  was  frightened  of  him." 

"That  calls  for  another  question — what  means  did  he  use 
to  intimidate  her?" 

"By  threatening  to  expose  her." 

"That's  all." 

The  state's  attorney  cross-examined  Rock  at  great  length. 

Rock  seemed  to  enjoy  it;  he  grinned  at  the  state's  attor- 
ney until  that  official  became  irritated,  but  Rock  was  as 
firm  as  his  name. 

"Have  you  any  promise  of  receiving  any  benefits  from 
giving  the  evidence  you  did  today?" 

"No,  sir!"  shouted  Rock.    "I  came  to  tell  the  truth." 

"That's  all." 

"The  court  will  now  stand  adjourned  until  two  p.  m.," 
said  the  judge. 

At  the  afternoon  session  the  courtroom  was  crowded  as 
at  the  morning  session ;  many  had  never  left  their  seats, 
fearing  that  they  would  not  get  in  again.  There  was  a  jam 
in  the  corridors,  the  sheriff  simply  instructing  his  bailiffs 
to  keep  order  and  do  the  best  they  could. 

When  the  announcement  was  made  that  the  court  was  in 


562  THE    CLOSE   OF   THE    CASE 

session  one  of  the  assistants  for  the  state  rose  to  make  the 
opening  argument : 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  we  have  sat  here  for  twelve  hours, 
listening  to  the  arguments  and  evidence  in  this  case,  and 
up  to  the  time  our  learned  friend  asked  his  final  question,  o{ 
his  last  witness,  for  the  defense,  we  have  failed  in  hearing 
him  say  one  word  in  reference  to  the  main  subject,  And  that 
is,  as  you  well  know,  whether  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  mur- 
dered Thomas  Great,  or  not.  The  reason,  we  presume,  is  that 
he  has  no  argument  to  offer,  so  has  wasted  his  energy  in 
attempting  to  villify  the  witnesses  for  the  state.  And  whom 
has  he  used  for  that  purpose?  A  profligate  of  a  woman,  who 
admits  her  shame ;  and  a  well  known  and  oft-convicted 
criminal,  yea,  one  who  at  the  present  time  is  serving  a  term 
in  the  penitentiary,  where  outraged  justice  demands  he  shall 
be  kept." 

He  then  began  to  review  the  evidence  as  presented  to 
them  by  the  prosecution,  and,  after  speaking  at  considerable 
length,  said,  "There  is  one  thing  that  must  strike  you  gen- 
tlemen very  forcibly.  The  one  witness  who  above  all  others 
is  conversant  with  the  facts  in  the  case  has  never  been 
placed  on  the  stand ;  I  allude  to  the  prisoner.  She  under 
the  law  in  this  state  might  testify  in  her  own  behalf.  I 
want  you  to  bear  that  in  mind,  when  you  retire  for  the 
purpose  of  finding  your  verdict.  Another  matter  I  want 
you  to  bear  in  mind, — much  stress  has  been  laid  on  the 
character  of  this  man  Hart.  We  are  willing  to  admit  that, 
while  living,  he  was  far  from  being  an  ideal  citizen,  but  be- 
ing dead  he  cannot  reply  to  any  of  the  charges  that  have 
been  made  against  him.  If  he  was  living  his  story  might 
differ  somewhat  from  that  of  his  traducers.  And  now,  as 
my  superior  is  to  follow  me,  I  will  not  take  up  any  more  of 
your  time,  only  to  thank  you  for  your  close  attention." 

When  Attorney  King  rose  to  speak  for  the  defense  there 
was  a  commotion  in  court,  many  tried  to  secure  better  posi- 
tions but  were  checked  by  the  bailiffs.  When  order  was 
restored.  King  said :  "May  it  please  your  honor  and  gentle- 
men of  the  jury:    Whenever  a  human  life  is  at  stake,  there 


THE    CLOSE   OF   THE    CASE  563 

is  no  counsel  but  must  feel  the  gra\ity  of  the  situation,  so 
at  this  moment,  in  spite  of  the  confidence  I  feel  in  the  jus- 
tice of  the  cause;  in  the  innocence  of  my  client,  and  the  un- 
bounded faith  I  have  on  your  good  judgment  and  impar- 
tiality, I  still  feel  somewhat  depressed  and  so  crave  your 
patience  and  indulgence  for  the  length  of  my  remarks  should 
I  in  the  discharge  of  my  duty  enter  fully  into  the  merits  of 
this  case.  The  young  gentleman  who  preceded  me  has  re- 
ferred to  two  matters,  which  I  fully  reviewed  at  the  begin- 
ning. First,  we  have  spent  many  hours  of  your  time  in 
dealing  with  a  subject  foreign  to  the  issue.  If  so,  who  is  to 
blame?  Not  we,  but  the  prosecution,  who  resorted  to  a 
method,  in  my  opinion,  unworthy  and  uncalled  for:  namely, 
to  so  blacken  the  .character  of  my  client  in  advance  as  to 
make  her  look  odious  in  the  minds  of  many  and  especially 
to  you  to  whom  she  must  look  for  vindication  or  condemna- 
tion. At  the  very  outset  of  the  case,  in  the  opening  state- 
ment of  my  learned  opponent,  he  promised  to  show  she  was 
a  woman  of  the  world ;  one  with  vast  experience  in  the  wiles 
that  wicked  women  are  supposed  to  possess,  and  to  sub- 
stantiate his  case  he  furnished  a  witness  that  attempts  to 
verify  his  statement — but  who  is  this  witness?  What  is  he? 
You  have  seen  and  heard  him  on  the  stand.  He  came  to 
gloat  over  a  victim,  to  fasten  the  halter  around  the  neck  of  a 
woman  who  had  never  wronged  him  and  with  whom  he  had 
but  a  slight  acquaintance.  We  struck  back  with  such  vigor 
and  such  effect  that  I  believe  if  my  learned  friend  had  the 
case  to  try  over,  he  would  say  to  Hooligan,  'Get  thee  behind 
me,  Satan.'  But  what  prompted  this  man  Hooligan  to  tell 
such  a  story?  It  was  not  to  vindicate  his  friend  Hart — no, 
Hart  was  nothing  to  him,  only  one  of  his  regular  customers, 
an  associate  of  his  patrons.  He  came  because  he  had  ran- 
cor in  his  heart.  Great  was  to  him  as  was  the  sun  to  the 
moon.  Now  all  is  dark  with  Hooligan,  his  light  has  gone 
out  forever,  he's  now  an  opaque  body.  Hooligan's  day  of 
greatness  is  over ;  he  feels  it,  he  knows  it ;  and  he  wants 
revenge  and  to  obtain  it  is  willing  to  swear  away  the  life  of 
this  unfortunate  woman,  willing  to  stand  up  and  slander 


564  THE    CLOSE   OF   THE    CASE 

her  in  the  eyes  of  the  tribunal  appointed  to  judge  her.  But 
let  us  go  further :  Who  is  this  Hooligan,  this  pot-house 
politician?  They  say  he  is  a  patriot,  too,  and  the  walls  of 
his  groggery  are  embellished  with  the  pictures  of  illustrious 
Irishmen.  They're  dead,  but  their  memory  survives ;  and 
he  has  also  the  living  there — but  who  are  they?  the  be- 
sotted remnants  to  whose  degradation  he  has  been  so  liberal 
a  contributor. 

"He  bears  a  name  which  would  lead  you  to  believe  he  was 
Irish.  I  deny  it.  It's  a  libel  against  the  race.  It  is  some 
freak  of  nature,  yea,  though  he  was  born  in  Ireland,  still  he 
is  not  Irish.  The  people  of  Ireland  are  brave  and  chivalrous, 
noted  for  their  virtue.  You  remember  the  beautiful  lines  of 
Thomas  Moore  in  portrayal  of  their  character,  where  the 
lone  maiden  said : 

'Sir  Knight,  I  feel  not  the  least  alarm, 
No  son  of  Erin  will  ofifer  me  harm, 
For  though  they  love  women  and  golden  store, 
Sir  Knight,  they  love  honor  and  virtue  more. 

On  she  went  with  her  maiden  smile 
In  safety  lighting  her  'round  the  green  Isle; 
And  blest  forever  is  she  who  relied. 
Upon  Erin's  honor  and  Erin's  pride.' 

"Do  you  think  that  Moore  ever  contemplated  a  creature 
like  that  as  being  one  of  his  countrymen,  when  he  wrote 
those  lines?  No!  perish  the  thought!  But  enough  for  the 
present  as  to  him.  I  will  have  occasion  to  refer  to  him 
later,  but  merely  mention  this  as  a  justification  of  our  course 
in  this  trial,  which  is  to  defend  the  character  of  the  woman 
against  her  traducers.  I  told  you.  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  in 
the  outset,  you  should  know  the  whole  truth,  and,  knowing 
it,  do  justice.  I  will  begin  and  trace  this  young  woman's 
career  from  her  early  infancy.  She  came  of  good  stock ; 
look  in  the  faces  of  this  old  couple,  her  grandparents,  the 
progenitors  of  her  mother — a  good,  simple  woman,  her  hus- 


THE    CLOSE   OF    THE    CASE  565 

band  killed  at  his  work,  leaving  her  a  widow  with  a  child 
but  two  years  old.  When  she  laid  her  dead  husband  in  his 
grave  and  had  dried  her  eyes,  the  next  question  with  her 
was,  how  to  maintain  herself  and  child.  She  had  no  re- 
sources but  industrious  hands  and  a  willing  heart.  She  de- 
termined to  earn  her  living  by  her  needle — 'twas  the  Song 
of  the  Shirt — sew,  sew,  sew, — the  friends  she  had  were,  like 
herself,  struggling  people,  but  they  had  hearts  to  feel  for 
the  widow  and  the  orphan  and  they  gave  her  such  work  as 
they  had  or  could  afiford.  Her  parents  at  that  time  were 
poor,  they  had  three  children,  all  too  young  to  work,  so  they 
could  give  little  assistance  to  their  child  and  grandchild. 
But  the  Widow  Burdett  toiled,  and  her  daughter  grew  up, 
an  accomplished,  beautiful  girl.  Her  mother  kept  her  at 
school,  where  she  graduated  with  high  honors.  When  she 
was  sixteen  years  old,  anxious  to  help  her  mother,  she  ap- 
pealed to  her  to  let  her  go  to  work  so  that  she  might  add 
to  their  slender  income.  The  constant  grind  was  telling  on 
the  devoted  mother,  her  sight  was  failing  her ;  her  daughter, 
intelligent,  handsome  and  innocent,  could  see  it.  'Mother,' 
she  said,  one  evening,  as  she  was  reading  the  papers,  'here 
is  an  advertisement,  "girls  wanted."  .Let  me  go,  I'm' sure  I 
would  do  well.  I  am  a  big  girl  and  can  take  care  of  my- 
self.' Alas !  poor  child,  she  knew  little  of  this  wicked  world, 
so,  after  pressing  and  appealing,  her  mother  consented.  You 
know  what  followed  her  entering  the  dry  goods  store, — the 
talk  of  the  dance,  Miss  Brown  and  Miss  Jones  have  en- 
lightened you  on  that,  the  fatal  introduction  to  Hart,  the 
supper  and  the  wine,  the  first  she  had  ever  drunk  in  her 
life.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  that  she  was  impressed  with  the 
gay  scene,  the  merry  throng?  It  was  a  new  world  to  her, 
she  had  never  seen  the  like  before.  She  knew  none  there, 
but  the  girls  who  worked  in  the  store  with  her,  and  each  one 
of  them  had  her  beau — Florence  was  alone.  She  had  time 
to  see  the  fleeting  footsteps  of  the  dancers  as  they  floated 
by  her.  She  had  no  male  friend.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at 
that,  when  a  young  man  was  introduced  to  her,  the  one 
she  thought  the  most   important  character   in   the   whole 


566  THE    CLOSE   OF   THE    CASE 

show — she  saw  him  marshalling  the  crowd,  arranging  the 
dancers,  ordering  the  band  when  to  commence — he  was 
the  whole  thing  in  her  simple  mind,  so  that  when  he  came 
to  get  her  a  partner  to  take  her  arm  in  the  grand  march, 
while  she  protested,  not  for  want  of  desire  but  for  want  of 
confidence — was  it  not  natural  that  she  should  feel  flattered 
and  form  a  good  opinion  of  the  neatly  dressed  young  man 
with  the  bright  badge  and  the  important  air,  and  accept  the 
partner,  the  young  thief,  into  whose  company  he  threw  her? 
You  have  heard  of  his  action  after  the  march  was  over,  how 
he  refused  to  allow  her  to  take  her  seat  but  held  her  to  form 
a  part  of  a  set  in  a  quadrille,  and  who  was  the  group  that 
formed  that  set?  First,  the  alderman,  the  patron  of  the 
orgie,  with  Moll  Runt  as  a  partner;  then  Hooligan — that 
fellow  there,"  pointing  toward  Hooligan,  "with  Mike  the 
sneak  thief's  woman  as  a  partner.  Then  there  were  Rock, 
Hart's  pal,  and  Miss  Jenkins,  another  victim  of  the  gang, 
then  Hart  and  the  innocent  girl  who  knew  little  of  the 
world,  and  was  probably  impressed  by  the  association, 
especially  with  the  city  father  who,  she  may  have  thought, 
was  a  mighty  man.  Then  the  supper  to  which  she  went,  as 
the  evidence  shows,  reluctantly,  the  wine,  and  then  her  last 
dance  on  that  fearful  occasion.  Dance  did  I  say?  She 
couldn't  dance,  but  in  the  strong  arms  of  the  rufiian  that  had 
marked  her  for  his  prey,  she  shuffled  over  the  floor — then 
her  final  resolve  to  go  home.  Hart  appealed  to  her  to  stay 
— but  no,  the  thought  of  her  lone,  widowed  mother  sitting 
up  for  her  prevailed  over  all  his  entreaties.  Home  she 
would  go.  The  walk  up  Milwaukee  Avenue,  her  escort, 
hilarious  with  enjoyment,  she  trembling  with  the  dire  con- 
sequence of  being  out  so  late,  fear  of  her  mother  scolding 
her.  She  had  no  fear  of  those  she  was  with — they  had  all 
been  nice  to  her,  besides,  another  female  she  knew  was 
present — she  had  nothing  to  dread  from  the  company  she 
was  with — they  were  all  her  friends,  as  she  thought.  Then 
the  invitation  to  enter  the  saloon,  and  her  protest,  T  can  go 
home  alone,'  she  said.  *We  will  only  stop  a  minute  or  two,' 
said  Hart,  'and  then  we  will  see  you  part  of  the  way,'    Re- 


THE    CLOSE    OF    THE    CASE  567 

member,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  this  was  between  one  and 
two  in  the  morning,  and  she  was  between  five  and  six  miles 
from  her  home,  with  no  means  to  reach  it  but  to  walk.  Was 
it  not  a  strong  inducement  for  her  to  wait  awhile,  the 
promise  of  company  to  escort  her  part  of  the  way?  What 
took  place  in  that  wineroom  is  of  too  fearful  a  character  for 
me  to  recount  again.  You  have  already  heard  the  facts,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  it  has  made  an  impression  on  your  minds 
that  can  never  be  obliterated.  You  have  heard  of  the  re- 
lentless, untiring  vigor  by  which  he  followed  her,  how  he 
cajoled  her,  promising  to  make  amends  if  it  were  possible, 
how  she  at  last  listened  to  the  tempter.  Then  came  the 
picnic,  you  know  what  took  place  there — his  seeming  de- 
votion to  her,  until  her  uncle  began  to  look  upon  him  with 
favor.  His  taking  her  away,  more  wine  and  the  delaying 
her  until  she  missed  the  train,  then  more  wine,  until  she 
was  oblivious  of  the  consequences.  Ah,  yes,  gentlemen  of 
the  jury,  what  an  important  part  wine  and  liquor  play  in 
the  destruction  of  the  human  race!  It's  the  devil's  chief 
agency  on  earth ;  without  it  his  mission  would  be  a  failure. 
But  I  must  pass  along.  She  was  now  aware  of  Hart's 
treachery ;  he  had  to  assume  another  method ;  he  must 
threaten  her,  he  must  expose  her  to  the  world.  She  shud- 
dered at  the  thought — she  knew  it  would  break  her  mother's 
heart,  would  estrange  her  from  all  her  family  and  friends, 
make  an  outcast  of  her.  Then  came  an  introduction  to  the 
alderman.  He  knew  the  facts  in  the  case.  He  heard  Hart 
boast  of  his  conquest.  Where?  In  Hooligan's  saloon — 
and  had  interfered  in  the  defense  of  the  vile  scoundrel  when 
Herman  Wosta,  Florence's  uncle,  had  taken  a  warrant  out 
for  him.  You  have  heard  from  Miss  Mary  Vann  of  their 
first  meeting,  as  she  thought.  Miss  Burdett,  in  the  inno- 
cence of  her  young  mind,  thought  the  alderman  had  not 
recognized  her  as  the  girl  he  had  seen  at  the  dance.  In  this 
she  was  mistaken  ;  he  had  no  sooner  placed  his  lecherous 
eyes  on  her  then  he  knew  her  and  resolved  to  euchre  his 
pal  and  supporter.  Hart,  out  of  her.  There  is  a  saying, 
'there  is  honor  among  thieves.'    Don't  believe  it,  gentlemen  ; 


568  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  CASE 

there  is  no  binding  influence  among  thieves  but  mutual 
interests.  So  the  alderman  set  to  work  to  deprive  Hart  of 
his  girl,  as  he  thought.  This  you  must  remember  was  after 
Hart  had  got  out  of  jail.  During  the  time  he  was  in  she 
had  led  a  good  life  and  had  resisted  all  the  inducements 
of  the  wily  politician.  But  Hart's  return  had  placed  Great 
at  an  advantage.  Hart  commenced  to  persecute  her — you 
remember  the  story  of  the  alderman  telling  her  that  Hart 
was  scandalizing  her  in  a  low-down  grogger}' — the  one  kept 
by  that  fellow,"  pointing  to  Hooligan,  who  wilted  every 
time  King  referred  to  him,  "and  how  he  told  her  he  might 
get  Hart  to  let  up  on  her;  you  know  how  he  did  it?  Mc- 
Carthy in  his  evidence  told  you,  he  used  the  chief  of  police 
as  an  innocent  accomplice  in  his  fell  design.  Even  then  he 
failed,  she  stood  firm  against  all  his  Machiaelian  artifies 
He  began  to  shower  favors  on  her,  courted  her  company ; 
she  felt  she  was  indebted  to  him  and  was  willing  to  humor 
him  in  everything  except  his  lustful  desire.  That  she  would 
not  do  and  all  the  evidence  introduced  establishes  that  fact. 
Then  came  the  time  of  the  supper  in  the  hotel,  of  the 
amount  of  wune  he  plied  her  with,  of  her  firm  refusal  to  go 
with  him,  of  his  appeal  and  she  laughing  at  his  proposal, 
then  more  wine,  and  ultimately  of  her  unconscious  condi- 
tion, of  his  saying,  'Well,  you  see  me  off,  anyway.'  and  she 
in  her  stupefied  state  agreeing.  Probably  if  she  had  been  in 
a  conscious  state  she  w^ould  have  seen  him  to  the  train.  She 
felt  she  had  to  rely  upon  him  for  protection  against  a  greater 
evil,  as  she  thought  at  the  time.  You  remember  the  refer- 
ence the  waiter  makes  as  to  the  difficulty  she  had  in  adjust- 
ing her  hat  as  she  was  about  to  leave,  and  McCarthy,  the 
police  officer,  w^ho  was  detailed  to  find  her — his  interview 
with  the  porter  when  he  described  her  futile  efforts  to  get 
on  the  train  without  assistance.  That  must  be  all  clear  to 
you — she  was  oblivious  to  the  surroundings,  she  was  in- 
capable of  resistance,  she  was  kidnapped,  stolen  as  much 
as  any  other  woman  in  the  history  of  the  w^orld — there's  no 
gainsaying  it,  and  the  man  whose  life  was  taken  was  the 
thief. 


THE    CLOSE   OF   THE    CASE  569 

"What  would  have  been  your  verdict  if,  after  realizing  his 
base  treachery  and  her  terrible  position  on  the  morning  after 
the  abduction,  if,  in  her  justifiable  w^rath,  she  had  strength 
enough  to  have  picked  him  up  in  her  arms  and  have  hurled 
him  through  the  window  of  the  coach  in  which  they  were 
traveling  and  his  body  had  been  ground  to  pieces  by  a 
passing  train — what  would  have  been  your  verdict  if  her 
fate  had  been  left  for  you  to  decide? 

"You,"  pointing  at  a  juror,  "who  are  the  father  of  a 
family,  you  who  have  grown-up  daughters,  you  and  you 
and  you — what  then  would  have  been  your  verdict,  I  ask 
you?"  At  this  point  of  King's  speech  he  was  extra  vehe- 
ment as  he  pointed  his  long  fingers  at  each  member  of  the 
jury  he  singled  out.  "But,  gentlemen,  why  should  I  ask 
you?  Common  sense,  reason  and  justice  inform  me  how 
you  would  have  acted,  what  your  verdict  would  be. 

"But  you  will  likely  be  told  that  after  the  outrage  she 
became  reconciled  to  the  position ;  that  he  lavished  money 
on  her,  bought  her  fine  raiment  and  jewelry,  set  her  up  in  an 
elegant  mansion — yes,  that's  true,  but  my  learned  friend 
cannot  give  that  as  a  reason  why  she  should  kill  him — no 
vile  woman  who  felt  satisfied  to  lead  a  life  of  shame  would 
kill  the  goose  that  laid  the  golden  egg.  We  emphatically 
deny  that  she  was  ever  satisfied  with  her  condition,  so  must 
look  for  other  reasons  which  led  to  the  fatal  end.  But 
again,  he  will  say  if  she  was  not  satisfied,  why  should  she 
continue  to  submit  to  a  condition  that  to  say  the  least  was 
irksome?  The  reason  is  clear  in  view  of  the  fact  that  when 
she  returned  after  his  theft  of  her  she  was  homeless  and 
friendless.  Mary  Vann  informed  her  that  reconciliation 
with  her  family  was  impossible.  Her  Uncle  Herman  was 
as  hard  as  adamant,  her  mother's  death  soon  followed — she 
died  of  a  broken  heart." 

At  this  allusion  Florence  began  to  sob  bitterly,  as  did  the 
old  man  and  woman,  Mrs.  Scully  began  to  sooth  her  friend. 
Herman  Wosta  tried  hard  to  keep  his  composure.  In  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  room  there  was  sneezing  and  coughing, 


570  THE    CLOSE   OF   THE    CASE 

even  crying  could  be  heard;  the  judge's  wife  had  to  go  back 
into  his  chamber  with  her  lady  companion. 

"As  I  was  saying,"  continued  King,  "after  her  mother's 
death  the  last  link  that  bound  her  to  her  relatives  was  sev- 
ered, there  was  none  she  could  look  to,  not  a  friend  in  the 
world,  none  she  might  appeal  to,  so  she  resigned  herself  an 
unwilling  victim  to  her  fate. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  I  have  reviewed  this  woman's 
history  at  some  length.  I  have  fulfilled  the  promise  I  made 
you,  every  word  I  have  spoken  has  been  substantiated  by 
evidence  incontrovertible,  I  here  defy  the  opposition  to' 
prove  to  the  contrary.  And,  as  my  learned  friend  may  be- 
come alarmed  as  to  whether  I  will  deal  with  the  main  issue 
or  not,  I  will  briefly  review  the  evidence  as  placed  before 
you,  by  commencing  with  Miss  Deverioux.  What  does  she 
testify  to?  That  she  had  assisted  her  mistress  to  undress, 
that  her  mistress  complained  that  she  didn't  feel  like  sleep- 
ing and  so  lay  down  on  a  lounge ;  that  she  (Miss  Deverioux) 
went  to  her  bed  .and  was  awakened  after  a  time  by  hearing 
a  loud  altercation  in  her  mistress'  room ;  that  she  came  out 
in  the  passage  and  could  distinguish  the  voice  of  Alderman 
Great  shouting  in  great  anger.  Now  we  will  not  dispute 
but  Miss  Burdett  was  angry,  too,  and  was  likely  using  a 
woman's  chief  weapon — her  tongue.  Miss  Deverioux  also 
swore  she  heard  some  scufifling,  followed  by  two  shots,  and 
shoving  open  the  door  saw  her  mistress  with  the  smoking 
revolver  in  her  hand,  the  dead  man  lying  on  the  floor.  Mrs. 
Kline  corroborates  the  latter  part  of  the  statement,  even  to 
Miss  Burdett's  acknowledgment  of  killing  him.  The  officer 
who  entered  saw  Miss  Burdett  with  the  gun  still  in  her 
hand.  To  the  latter  part  of  this  statement,  as  to  Miss  Bur- 
dett's admission,  of  that-  we  raise  no  question.  But  where 
did  the  gun  come  from?  Miss  Deverioux  testified  that  she 
never  saw  it  before,  though  she  had  full  access  to  her  mis- 
tress' wardrobe,  dresser,  and  closets.  Mrs.  Kline  partially 
supports  her  in  the  assertion,  that  she  frequently  entered 
her  rooms  to  collect  the  soiled  clothes  and  never  observed 
a  weapon  in  any  of  her  belongings.    Miss  Deverioux  further 


THE    CLOSE   OF    THE    CASE  571 

asserts  during  the  three  years  she  was  in.  Miss  Burdett's 
service  she  never  knew  her  to  be  possessed  of  a  weapon. 
Is  it  not  clear,  then,  that  Great  brought  the  gun  with  him? 
Nor  have  we  any  fault  to  find  with  that.  It  was  his  custom 
to  be  out  late  at  night  and  generally  had  a  quantity  of 
money  on  his  person,  and  those  who  know  this  city,  with 
its  Harts  and  Hooligans,  would  do  well  to  go  armed,  when 
out  at  night." 

"I  think,  your  honor,  that  reference  to  Mr.  Hooligan,  by 
the  counsel  for  the  defense,  is  uncalled  for,"  said  the  state's 
attorney. 

"Well,  then,  I'll  qualify  it,"  replied  King,  "and  say  Mr. 
Hooligan's  patrons  and  friends.  I  hope  that  will  satisfy  the 
qualms  of  my  learned  friend,"  looking  over  at  the  state's 
attorney. 

"Now  I  want  to  revert  for  a  moment  to  where  Great  spent 
his  time  that  evening  previous  to  reaching  Miss  Burdett's. 
He  spent  it  in  Hooligan's,  so  Hooligan  says  and  Hooligan 
knows  what  he  is  talking  about.  What  was  he  doing  there? 
'Bowling  them  up  for  the  boys,'  a  favorite  occupation  of 
his.  Hooligan  says  he  spent  between  two  and  three  hours 
there.  First  he  said  Great  had  a  couple  of  whiskeys.  Now 
any  one  wdio  knows  that  section  and  thinks  that  the  con- 
sumers there  would  be  satisfied  with  only  two  drinks  in 
nearly  three  hours  would  be  ill-informed,  I  should  say  a 
dozen  drinks  in  that  time  would  be  nearer  the  number.  Now 
let  us  split  the  difference  and  say  the  alderman  had  a  half 
dozen  drinks.  Hooligan  says  he  was  drinking  whiskey — 
just  think  of  it !  a  half-dozen  drinks  of  the  kind  Hooligan 
dispenses  under  the  alderman's  belt,  and  you  can  judge  his 
condition  when  he  arrived  at  Miss  Burdett's  home,  and 
probably,  though  there  is  no  evidence  to  show  it,  between 
the  time  he  left  Hooligan's  groggery  and  when  he  reached 
Miss  Burdett's  home  he  may  have  called  in  at  one  or  more 
institutions  similar  to  Hooligan's  and  got  a  half  dozen  more. 

"Now,  there  was  a  quarrel  in  the  room,  none  will  dispute ; 
but  how  it  commenced  or  what  it  was  al30ut  I'm  not  going 
to  say.     I  don't  know,  but  have  my  opinion,  which  I  will 


572  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  CASE 

give  to  you  later.  The  county  doctor  who  was  sent  for  im- 
mediately after  Miss  Burdett  was  brought  in,  describes  her 
condition  as  one  of  great  prostration.  He  tells  you  of  a 
bruise  on  her  arm  and  an  abrasion  on  her  forehead  that 
might  have  been  done  with  a  blow  or  a  push,  or  from  some 
blunt  weapon.  I  asked  him  if  it  could  have  been  done  with 
the  butt  end  of  this  gun,"  taking  the  weapon  in  his  hand, 
"and  he  said  'Yes.'  I  maintain  that's  how  it  was  done — 
there's  no  doubt  of  it  in  my  mind. 

"Hooligan,  the  star  witness  for  the  prosecution,  tells  us 
Great  wanted  to  get  rid  of  her;  swears  in  his  examination 
that  Great  told  him  so  and  reiterated  it  in  his  cross-examin- 
ation. Ts  is  then  not  probable"  (raising  his  voice  to  a  higher 
pitch)  "that  that  night  he  went  there  to  consummate  the 
purpose  he  told  Hooligan  he  desired  and  took  this  very 
weapon  with  him  to  fulfill  his  purpose? 

"No  man  can  tell,  that  information  died  with  him.  That 
he  brought  the  gun  there  is  beyond  a  doubt ;  that  there  was 
a  row  and  a  scuffle  is  also  beyond  dispute. 

"Who  commenced  the  argument  we  know  not  nor  do  we 
care — probably  Miss  Burdett,  angered  by  the  late  hour  of 
his  visit  or  seeing  the  condition  he  was  in,  upbraided  him. 
He,  full  of  Hooligan's  liquid  damnation,  was  in  no  mood  to 
reason.  From  words  to  blows — he  struck  her,  that  is  made 
clear  by  the  evidence  of  the  physician ;  our  theory,  and  the 
only  reasonable  one,  is  that  he  drew  his  gun  and  either 
pushed  or  struck  her  with  the  butt  end  of  it.  She,  seeing  her 
life  in  peril,  in  sheer  desperation  closed  with  him — that  they 
were  in  close  quarters  is  shown  by  the  mark  on  her  arm 
where  he  grasped  her  with  his  left  hand,  thus,  while  he 
attempted  to  push  her  away  with  the  gun  in  his  right — the 
room  is  small,  anyway.  Her  strength  under  normal  con- 
ditions was  in  no  way  equal  to  his,  but  his  mind  and  body 
were  weakened  by  the  liquor  that  was  in  him  and  she,  with 
the  strength  of  desperation  in  a  struggle  for  her  life, 
wrenched  the  gun  from  his  hand  and  pulled  the  trigger 
tAvice  ere  she  considered  the  consequence  of  the  occurrence. 
Her  admission  that  she  killed  him  goes  for  naught  except 


THE    CLOSE   OF    THE    CASE  573 

to  establish  her  truthfiihiess,  but  the  gentlemen  of  the  prose- 
cution, in  disputing  those  facts,  want  to  know  why  we 
didn't  place  her  on  the  stand  to  explain  them.  I'll  tell  you. 
She  has  not  been  in  a  condition  since  that  fatal  night  to 
make  a  clear,  concise  statement  of  what  happened ;  she  has 
been  despondent  and  cares  little  what  becomes  of  her.  The 
world  to  her  has  been  like  one  huge  black  nightmare  since 
she  fell  in  with  the  Hooligan  gang  of  thieves  and  defilers  of 
girls,  two  examples  of  their  atrocities  you  see  before  you. 
Knowing,  then,  her  mental  condition,  I  assumed  the  entire 
responsibility  of  prohibiting  her  from  taking  the  stand  in 
her  own  defense.  Her  statements,  however,  could  not  be 
corroborated  by  any  living  witness  and  in  my  opinion  would 
do  little  to  influence  your  verdict. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  in  conclusion,  let  me  say  you  are 
the  judges  of  the  law  and  the  evidence,  your  verdict  must 
be  guilty  or  not  guilty,  death  or  liberty.  The  state's  attor- 
ney demands  one,  we  hope  for  the  other. 

"It's  an  old  maxim  in  law  that  it  were  better  for  ninety 
and  nine  guilty  persons  to  escape  than  that  one  innocent 
person  should  suffer.  That  ere  you  can  find  a  verdict  of 
guilty  every  vestige  of  doubt  must  be  removed  from  your 
mind.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  many  years  after  this  case  is 
ended  you  will  be  in  the  enjoyment  of  life,  surrounded  by 
your  children  and  grandchildren,  and  that  you  will  look 
with  pride  and  pleasure  on  the  fair  faces  of  your  daughters 
who  have  escaped  the  wiles  of  designing,  vicious  men,  and 
in  those  days  you  will  look  back  to  this  momentous  event  in 
your  lives,  and  feel  a  consolation  in  the  knowledge  that  you 
acquitted  Florence  Burdett,  the  victim  of  outrageous 
wrongs,  and  passed,  her  case  up  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  all 
Supreme  Courts,  where  human  frailty  plays  no  part,  where 
all  things  are  known,  where  there  is  no  miscarriage  of  jus- 
tice, where  your  God  as  well  as  hers  sits  in  judgment  and 
presides  over  the  destiny  of  us  all." 

As  King  took  his  seat  there  was  applause  in  the  court- 
room. The  judge's  wife  was  heard  to  say,  "Splendid !"  His 
honor  turned  around  as  if  in  rebuke,  but  she  looked  defiantly 


574  THE    CLOSE   OF    THE    CASE 

at  him, — he  could  not  commit  her  for  contempt.  Facing  the 
audience,  he  said  in  stern  tones,  "If  there  is  any  further 
demonstration  I  will  immediately  have  the  courtroom 
cleared."  The  bailiffs  tapped  the  table  and  rails  of  the 
benches  to  obtain  order,  but  it  was  some  minutes  ere  per- 
fect peace  was  restored.  When  it  was,  the  state's  attorney 
rose  to  make  the  closing-  argument. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  fully  aware  of  the  great  effort 
made  by  my  learned  friend,  the  counsel  for  the  defense,  I 
rise  with  some  misgivings  as  to  my  own  ability  to  do  full 
justice  to  this  most  momentous  case,  but  confronted  as  I  am 
by  twelve  intelligent  men,  most  of  them  of  mature  experi- 
ence, I  feel  confident  that  the  law  and  the  evidence  will  have 
more  weight  in  influencing  you,  than  will  the  oratory  and 
eloquence  of  a  special  pleader.  He  has  reviewed  the  testi- 
mony of  some  of  the  witnesses.  One  especially  he  has  dealt 
with  harshly,  brutally,  I  may  say.  Mr.  Hooligan  has  felt  the 
violence  of  his  wrath.  Counsel  for  the  defense  seems  to  wish 
to  discredit  Mr.  Hooligan's  evidence,  from  the  fact  of  Mr. 
Hooligan  being  a  saloon-keeper.  This,  however,  is  not  suf- 
ficient grounds  to  impugn  the  veracity  of  the  state's  witness. 
The  business  Mr.  Hooligan  is  in  is  a  legitimate  one,  sanc- 
tioned by  law;  his  house  is  a  public  one;  he  is  no  more  re- 
sponsible for  the  characters  of  his  patrons  that  is  that  of  any 
other  man  in  his  line.  To  the  business  that  Mr.  Hooligan 
is  in  v/e  owe  in  great  part  the  collecting  of  the  revenues  that 
are  necessary  to  run  this  imperial  city.  The  legality  of  Mr. 
Hooligan's  business  is  acknowledged  by  nation,  state  and 
municipality.  He  is  amenable  to  those  in  authority  to  run 
it  according  to  regulations  laid  down.  If  he  doesn't,  the 
police  powers  of  the  city  can  be  invoked  against  him,  his 
license  taken  from  him,  and  other  penalties  imposed. 

"Now,  during  all  the  years  that  Mr.  Hooligan  has  been  in 
business,  we  have  failed  to  hear  that  he  was  ever  charged 
with  running  his  house  improperly,  only  on  the  unsupported 
statement  of  Ofificer  McCarthy,  who,  it  would  seem,  is  preju- 
diced against  him.  Mr.  Hooligan's  establishment  is  located 
in  a  part  of  the  city  inhabited  mainly  by  working  people. 


THE    CLOSE   OF    THE    CASE  575 

As  has  been  said  by  many  of  our  leading  sociologists,  'The 
saloon  is  the  workingman's  club.'  There  men  meet  of  an 
evening  to  talk  over  the  events  of  the  day,  to  while  away  an 
hour,  to  smoke  their  pipes  and  chat,  the  sign  over  his  front 
proclaims  its  purpose,  'Workingmen's  Headquarters,'  and 
there  workingmen  congregate.  It  couldn't  be  expected  from 
him  that  before  he  served  a  customer,  he  should  ask  him. 
or  her,  to  show  proof  of  good  character,  no  more  than  it 
would  be  for  the  clerk  behind  the  desk  in  the  Palmer  House 
or  any  hotel  where  a  party  came  to  register.  It  has  also 
been  said  against  him  that  he  employed  a  man  by  the  name 
of  Rock  as  bartender.  Admitted,  that's  true,  he  employed 
Rock  and  paid  him.  What  he  had  a  right  to  expect  from 
Rock  was  that  he  would  be  honest  and  industrious  while  in 
his  service,  that  he  would  be  civil  and  courteous  to  his  cus- 
tomers. 

"When  Rock's  day's  work  was  over  his  time  was  his  own 
— he  was  outside  Hooligan's  control,  just  as  the  cashier  or 
teller  of  a  bank  is  free  when  the  bank  closes  and  he  takes 
his  departure.  The  manager  or  director  of  the  bank  loses 
sight  of  him  until  the  next  day  and  cannot  be  held  respon- 
sible for  his  actions.  Rock,  during  his  vicious  career,  may 
have  imposed  on  Mr.  Hooligan,  who  was  busy  minding  his 
own  business  and  knew  little  or  nothing  of  Rock's  anteced- 
ents. As  for  Hart,  he,  we  presume,  had  the  same  relation- 
ship to  Hooligan  as  had  any  one  of  the  hundreds  of  young 
men  that  occasionally  visited  his  place.  Now,  I  don't  want 
to  be  considered  as  defending  the  reputation  of  either  Hart 
or  Rock.  I,  as  the  state's  attorney  of  this  county,  have  a 
full  knowledge  of  their  character,  but  to  identify  Mr.  Hooli- 
gan with  them  and  at  the  same  time  hold  him  in  any  way 
responsible  for  their  misdemeanor  is  unfair,  unjust.  Even 
in  the  suit  where  this  woman  Jenkins,  the  drab  that  Rock 
associated  with,  and  who  tried  to  make  him  acknowledge 
the  parentage  of  her  child,  Mr.  Hooligan  might  be  inno- 
cently at  fault :  he  took  Rock's  word  for  it,  and  the  stories 
of  other  young  men  he  had  heard.  But  who  is  she?  Is  her 
testimony  more  to  be  relied  upon  than  Mr.  Hooligan's,  she 


576  THE    CLOSE    OF   THE    CASE 

who  decoyed  her  young  friend,  if  her  story  is  true,  into  the 
arms  of  this  young-  fellow,  Hart?  She  who  conveniently 
left  the  room  so  that  Hart  might  have  ample  opportunity 
to  commit  an  outrage  such  as  should  cry  to  heaven  for 
vengeance — you  are  expected  to  believe  her  and  Rock  and 
disbelieve  Mr.  Hooligan  in  all  he  says.  Preposterous !  We 
dispute  the  whole  wineroom  story — it's  a  fabrication  con- 
ceived to  bolster  up  the  character  of  this  murderess,  whom 
we  are  now  trying.  I  am  not  going  to  dispute  but  what 
she  was  in  winerooms  with  Hart,  probably  often.  Even  at 
a  picnic  you  heard  mentioned,  they  resorted  to  a  wineroom  ; 
or  at  least  in  a  room  where  wine  was  served,  and  also  on 
the  night  that  the  alderman  is  supposed  to  have  run  away 
with  her,  they  departed  from  a  wineroom,  so  it  must  seem 
clear  it  was  habitual  with  her  to  attend  such  places.  My 
colleague  has  already  reviewed  the  evidence  at  considerable 
length,  so  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  thresh  over  the  same 
ground,  but  merely  to  refer  to  her  association  with  the  man 
she  killed.  He  was  a  man  of  flesh  and  blood,  an  ordinary 
mortal,  with  generous  impulses.  This  woman  told  him  her 
tale  of  woe,  she  was  tired  of  Hart,  he  was  coarse  and  brutal 
in  his  manners,  he  had  nothing;  so,  in  the  eyes  of  women 
like  her,  he  was  no  good.  Alderman  Great  was  rich,  gay 
and  generous.  He  was  a  'catch,'  she  was  a  remarkably 
good-looking  woman — he  was  but  human,  with  all  the  weak- 
ness that  frail  man  is  heir  to.  He  fell  under  her  influence, 
became  her  slave.  Her  extravagance  was  such  as  to  lead 
Alderman  Great  to  designate  her  'a  leech,'  as  testified  by 
our  witness,"  reading  part  of  Hooligan's  testimony,  "bought 
her  fine  clothing,  diamonds  and  other  jewelry;  set  her  up  in 
a  mansion  and  took  her  to  many  parts  of  the  world.  Like 
the  spoiled  child  she  was,  never  satisfied,  always  craving  for 
more,  this  went  on  for  years.  She  knew  that  he  had  a  wife 
living.  This,  then,  is  the  saint  my  friend  xA.ttorney  King 
wants  you  to  look  on.  He  took  ofifense  when  I  said  she  was 
more  of  a  siren.  The  story  goes  that  sirens  sat  on  the  rocks 
by  the  seashore  and  lured  mariners  to  destruction.  The 
sailors  forgot  their  duty  in  the  desire  to  reach  their  charm- 


THE    CLOSE    OF    THE    CASE  577 

ers.  Is  not  this  story  very  similar?  I  hold  it's  a  parallel 
case.  Great  deserted  home,  friends,  kindred,  even  the  ship 
of  state,  for  her;  his  public  duty  he  forgot,  just  as  did  An- 
thon}^  when  he  fell  under  the  snare  of  Cleopatra.  It  is  a 
saying-  of  some  of  us  arrogant  men,  that  women  are  the 
weaker  vessels.  We  pride  ourselves  on  our  strength.  In 
some  things  it  may  be  true,  but  before  women's  superior 
charms  the  greatest  men  in  the  world  have  fallen.  History, 
both  secular  and  divine,  establishes  that  fact ;  yea,  even  from 
the  time  our  first  sire  was  tempted  by  our  first  mother, 
David  the  mighty,  Samson  the  strong,  Solomon  the  wise, 
all  surrendered  to  woman's  wiles.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at, 
then,  that  Great  fell  by  the  wayside,  when  this  woman  set 
her  snares  for  him,  turning  up  her  tearful  eyes,  her  rosy 
c'heeks,  her  ruby  lips?  The  newspapers  every  day  record 
similar  episodes — so  what's  the  use  of  dwelling  on  the  sub- 
ject? That  she  killed  him  is  an  acknowledged  fact.  My 
learned  friend  has  laid  great  stress  on  the  point  as  to  where 
she  got  the  revolver.  That  we  do  not  know ;  that  she  had 
it  at  the  time  of  the  assassination  is  beyond  dispute,  that  he 
took  it  there  on  that  fatal  evening  is  only  conjecture  raised 
in  the  imagination  of  my  learned  friend's  fertile  brain ;  you 
have  no  proof  of  it  and  should  discredit  it. 

"Life  is  held  too  cheap  in  this  city,  murders  are  too  com- 
mon, and  the  murderers  too  frequently  are  let  go  unpun- 
ished. A  miscarriage  of  justice  in  this  case  will  establish 
one  of  the  most  dangerous  precedents  possible  to  conceive. 
Every  vile  woman,  when  tired  of  her  paramour,  has  only 
to  lure  him  to  her  room  and  there  kill  him,  then  set  up  as  a 
defense  that  she  was  once  virtuous.  All  girls  have  been  vir- 
tuous in  the  early  part  of  their  career  —  the  commonest 
strumpet  on  the  street,  the  lewdest  woman  in  the  worst  den 
of  infamy,  can  lay  claim  to  that,  and  if  guilty  of  murder,  in 
a  similar  manner  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  could  put  up  a 
similar  defense,  and,  the  viler  she  was,  the  oftener  she  erred, 
the  stronger  her  case. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  it  is  needless  for  me  to  dwell 
longer  on  this  case,  you  are  intelligent  beings,  charged  with 


578  THE    CLOSE    OF   THE    CASE 

the  solemn  duty  of  vindicating  the  law.  The  fair  name  of 
our  city  is  placed  in  jeopardy  with  the  frequency  of  crimes 
like  this.  It  is  for  you  by  your  verdict  to  put  a  check  to 
them.  Society  demands  it,  the  fair  name  of  our  virtuous 
women  is  enhanced  when  the  scarlet  woman  is  condemned. 

"Being-  confident,  then,  in  A^our  honesty,  your  judgment 
and  your  courage,  the  state  of  which  you  are  citizens  leaves 
it's  case  in  your  hands." 

A  marked  silence  settled  on  the  court  at  the  close  of  the 
state's  attorney's  address.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  action  of 
the  entire  audience  was  concerted — all  looked  towards  the 
prisoner.  Her  head  was  bowed  down,  the  color  had  left 
Mrs.  Scully's  cheeks,  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wosta's  eyes  were 
riveted  on  their  granddaughter ;  Herman  Wosta's  teeth 
closely  set  seemed  as  if  he  was  looking  into  space,  though 
his  eyes  were  turned  in  the  direction  of  his  niece. 

The  painful  silence  was  broken  by  the  judge  rising  to  in- 
struct the  jury.  This  took  some  time,  as  the  instructions 
were  of  great  length  and  a  multiplicity  of  repetitions,  "if 
you,  the  jury,  find" — too  many  to  enumerate  here.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  reading  of  the  instructions  the  jury  were 
ordered  to  retire.  The  prisoner  was  led  back  to  her  cell, 
but  few  left  the  courtroom.  The  sheriff  was  seen  going 
over  to  where  Scully,  Wosta  and  McCarthy  were  standing. 
He,  too,  looked  gloomy,  as  he  whispered  something  to  Her- 
man Wosta,  w^ho  nodded  assent  to  whatever  he  said.  Then 
Scully  and  Wosta  came  over  to  where  the  aged  couple  sat 
and  led  them  out  of  the  room.  Wosta  had  to  help  his 
mother,  who  looked  as  if  she  would  faint.  Miss  Mary  Vann, 
Miss  Brown,  Miss  Jones  and  Miss  Jenkins  were  talking  to- 
gether, and  there  was  a  settled  gloom  on  all  their  coun- 
tenances. 


the  verdict  579 

Chapter  LVII. 
the  verdict. 

When  Florence  Burdett  reached  her  cell  she  threw  her- 
self on  the  cot — tears  came  to  her  relief. 

Mrs.  Scully  sat  in  silence.  The  fierce  arraignment  of  the 
prosecutor,  in  his  closing  remarks,  had  bewildered  her.  She 
didn't  know  what  to  think. 

Florence  after  a  time  raised  her  head  and,  seeing  her 
friend  in  such  distress,  said,  "It  was  cruel  of  him  to  say  such 
harsh  things  about  me,  but  I  am  satisfied.  God's  will  be 
done." 

"It  gives  me  great  comfort,  Florence,  to  hear  you  talk 
that  way.    We  can  only  hope  for  the  best." 

"Well,"  said  Florence,  rising  and  drying  her  eyes,  "I  have 
still  this  consolation,  my  relatives  sympathize  with  me  and 
have  forgiven  me,  and  the  devotion  that  3^ou  and  your  hus- 
band have  shown  to  me  is  the  greatest  solace  I  have  had 
during  my  life.  So  be  comforted,  Mrs.  Scully,  I  have  no 
more  fear ;  but  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me — if  the 
worst  comes  to  the  worst,  tell  Father  Nolan  I  want  to  see 
him." 

The  sheriff  had  kindly  placed  a  waiting-room  at  the  dis- 
posal of  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wosta,  and  had  given  instruction 
to  one  of  his  bailiffs  to  stay  there  and  allow  no  one  in,  ex- 
cept those  whom  Herman  Wosta  desired. 

Mrs.  Sloan  and  Mrs.  Long  stayed  with  the  old  couple. 
Scully  wanted  to  send  out  and  have  some  refreshments 
brought  to  them,  as  it  was  now  past  six  o'clock.  Herman 
asked  his  parents  about  it,  but  they  both  shook  their  heads 
— they  couldn't  touch  a  thing.  Mrs.  Sloan  and  Mrs.  Long 
said  the  same. 

Scully  and  Wosta  went  back  to  the  courtroom  to  wait. 
The  judge  was  in  his  chambers  entertaining  his  guests, 
supper  having  been  brought  them  from  a  neighboring  hotel, 
an  hour  had  passed  and  reports  began  to  come  from  the 
jury  room  as  to  the  standing  of  the  jury. 


580  THE    VERDICT 

"Pay  no  attention  to  them,"  said  King,  addressing  a  group 
of  Florence's  friends  who  had  resolved  to  remain  in  court, 
"Probably  some  refreshments  have  been  sent  into  the  jury, 
maybe  they  haven't  taken  a  ballot  yet.  I'm  going  out  to 
take  a  little  lunch ;  Regleiz,  you  come  with  me ;  Nomolos, 
you  wait  here  and  if  the  jury  should  return  in  my  absence 
and  the'ir  verdict  is  not  satisfactory,  make  the  necessary 
motion  for  a  new  trial.  We  won't  be  long,  then  you  can  go 
— you'd  better  come  with  us,  Scully." 

"No,  I'll  stick  it  out.  You  can  do  this  for  me  while  you're 
out.  King,  order  a  carriage  to  come  and  stay  at  the  door. 
We'll  have  to  send  the  old  couple  home  anyway,  if  the  jury 
is  out  much  longer." 

"All  right,"  and  Kirig  and  Regliez  left. 

Another  half  hour  had  passed,  Mary  Vann,  Miss  Brown, 
Miss  Jones  and  Miss  Jenkins  had  joined  the  party  in  the 
waiting-room.  The  suspense  was  telling  on  them,  even 
Miss  Brown  began  to  feel  uncomfortable.  This  was  a  little 
outside  her  regular  experience.  She  could  look  upon  the 
dying  with  composure,  but  this  case  irritated  her.  She 
went  over  to  Mrs.  Wosta  and  began  to  talk  to  her,  smooth- 
ing the  old  woman's  hair  back  and  asked  her  if  she  wanted 
for  anything.  Mary  Vann  entered  into  conversation  with 
Mrs.  Long  and  Mrs.  Sloan.  Margy  sat  like  one  bewildered, 
her  boy  leaning  against  her  knees.  Herman  came  to  the 
room,  the}^  all  looked  up  to  him,  but  he  shook  his  head  and 
after  looking  at  his  father  and  mother  went  back  to  the 
courtroom.  The  jury  had  been  out  just  two  hours,  when 
newsboys  could  be  heard  shouting,  "Extra  edition!  Full 
account  of  the  trial  of  Florence  Burdett — the  jury  still  out 
— seven  for  conviction."  This  gave  a  shock  to  those  in  the 
waiting-room.  King,  who  had  returned,  began  to  wear  an 
anxious  appearance  and  told  those  in  the  courtroom  who 
were  interested  in  his  client  to  pay  no  attention  to  such 
rumors. 

"I  think  I  should  send  my  father  and  mother  home."  said 
Wosta,  looking  at  Scully. 

"I  think  it  would  be  as  well,"  Scully  replied.    "There's  a 


Awaiting  Thk  A'erdict 


THE   VERDICT  581 

carriage  downstairs.  Tell  the  driver  after  he  leaves  them  at 
home  to.  come  back  and  wait  for  Mrs.  Scully." 

Herman  Wosta  went  to  where  his  mother  and  father  sat 
and  told  them  he  would  like  them  to  go  home,  but  the  old 
man  wouldn't  budge.  "No,  we'll  stay  a  little  longer."  So 
Herman  gave  it  up  and  returned  to  the  courtroom.  King 
was  pacing  back  and  forward,  the  state's  attorney  was 
chatting  to  his  colleagues.  He  seemed  in  good  humor,  he 
looked  up  at  King  as  he  was  passing. 

"Looks  like  a  disagreement,"  remarked  King. 

"Yes,  or  a  conviction."  retorted  the  prosecutor,  smiling. 

"No  danger,"  replied  King.  McCarthy,  Scully  and  Wosta 
were  standing,  earnest  listeners  to  this  dialogue. 

"I'll  have  to  go  back  to  where  my  people  are,"  said  Wosta ; 
"this  strain  is  too  much  for  me.  I  feel  sick."  Wosta  went 
and  joined  the  sad  group  in  the  waiting-room  and  sat  down. 
They  were  a  gloomy  crowd,  not  a  word  was  spoken. 

It  was  close  upon  nine  o'clock  when  the  sheriff  put  his 
head  in  at  the  door.  "Herman,  come  along,  there's  some- 
thing doing,  they've  notified  the  judge,  and  I've  sent  over 
for  the  prisoner."  Herman  jumped  to  his  feet  and  went 
toward  the  door,  followed  by  Mary  Vann  and  Miss  Jones. 
Miss  Brown  said  she  had  better  stay  where  she  was.  Miss 
Jenkins  stayed  also.  They  could  plainly  hear  a  crowd  of 
people  running  towards  the  courtroom.  How  they  all  got 
the  tip  seemed  a  mystery,  but  ere  the  judge  had  taken  his 
place  on  the  bench  the  courtroom  was  packed. 

There  was  a  delay  in  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  prisoner. 
She  came  in  leaning  on  Mrs.  Scully's  arm.  looking  neither 
to  the  right  or  left,  but  fell  into  her  seat  as  she  had  done  on 
previous  occasions. 

The  jury  filed  in  and  stood  in  front  of  their  chairs.  They 
all  looked  very  serious.  There  was  a  death-like  stillness  in 
the  courtroom,  until  the  clerk  of  the  court,  facing  the  jury, 
said,  "Gentlemen,  have  you  agreed  upon  a  verdict?" 

"We  have,"  responded  the  foreman. 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  the  clerk. 

"We  find  the  prisoner  Not  Guilty  !" 


582  THE    VERDICT 

Ere  the  last  sentence  had  been  completed  pandemonium 
reigned  in  the  courtroom.  Cheer  after  cheer  resounded 
through  the  hall.  The  judge  stood  up  and  frowned,  he 
turned  round  sharply  and  caught  his  wife  waving  her  arm 
to  those  in  front.    The  bailiffs  kept  pounding  for  order. 

Scully  rushed  over  to  where  his  wife  and  Florence  sat, 
followed  by  Herman  and  McCarthy.  The  crowd  began  to 
press  close  to  where  Florence  sat,  her  head  still  bowed. 

"Order  in  the  court!  Order  in  the  court!"  shouted  the 
bailiffs.  King,  after  shaking  hands  with  Scully,  faced  the 
audience  and  held  up  his  hands,  beckoning  them  to  keep 
silence — to  sit  down — as  many  were  standing  on  the  seats, 
when  comparative  order  was  restored. 

A  motion  was  made  to  poll  the  jury,  which  was  done, 
each  answering  to  his  name.  The  county  physician  went 
over  and  looked  at  Florence,  then  went  and  whispered 
something  to  the  judge. 

"I  see  the  sheriff  is  present,"  said  his  honor,  "and  while 
the  necessary  papers  are  being  made  out,  I'll  remit  the  de- 
fendant to  his  custody." 

In  the  room  where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wosta,  Mrs.  Sloan  and 
Mrs.  Long,  Miss  Brown  and  Miss  Jenkins  sat,  they  could 
hear  the  commotion  in  the  courtroom,  but  could  not  tell 
what  it  meant,  until  the  bailiff,  who  sat  inside  to  prevent 
intruders  from  entering,  heard  hurrying  footsteps  running 
along  the  passage.  They  were  those  of  reporters  with 
papers  in  their  hands,  making  for  the  stairs.  "What  is  it?" 
shouted  the  bailiff  to  the  first  who  reached  him. 

"Not  Guilty!" 

Miss  Brown  ran  over  to  where  Mrs.  Wosta  sat,  the  old 
lady  had  swooned.  Tears  of  joy  trickled  down  the  old  man's 
face.  Mrs.  Long  hugged  Mrs.  Sloan,  Margy  took  her  boy 
up  in  her  arms  and  kissed  him  as  if  he  had  been  responsible 
for  the  verdict. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  group  was  all  smiles.  Miss  Brown 
had  bathed  Mother  Wosta's  temples  and  the  palms  of  her 
hands,  so  that  she  soon  revived.  Then  there  was  the  noise 
of    a    vast    number    coming    in    their    direction.     "Keep 


THE    VERDICT  583 

back  there !  Keep  back  I  tell  you !  Can't  you  keep  those 
people  back?"  shouted  the  sheriff,  who  was  leading-  the  pro- 
cession, to  his  men.  As  they  reached  the  door  he  knocked ; 
the  bailiff  threw  it  wide  open,  He  entered,  followed  by 
Florence,  Mrs.  Scull}^  on  one  side  of  her,  Mary  A^ann  on 
the  other. 

As  soon  as  Florence  saw  her  grandparents,  she  went  for- 
ward and  knelt  down,  placing  one  arm  on  the  knees  of  each. 
"Forgive  me,"  she  said,  looking  up  into  their  faces,  as  the 
tears  streamed  from  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  my  child,"  said  the  old  man,  "we  forgive  you,  and 
thank  God  for  your  deliverance." 

The  scene  which  followed  was  too  painful  to  describe. 
The  women  cried  and  sobbed,  Herman  Wosta  was  like  a 
big  soft  boy,  Scully  felt  very  uncomfortable,  McCarthy 
seemed  as  if  he  had  got  a  cold  in  his  head.  The  sheriff"  had 
to  blow  his  nose  frequently.  After  a  few  moments  Aliss 
Brown  went  over  to  assist  Florence  to  rise.  She  found  she 
had  fainted.    In  a  second  all  was  commotion. 

"Put  her  up  here."  cried  the  nurse,  "lay  her  on  this 
table."  Scully  picked  her  up,  as  if  she'd  been  an  infant. 
Herman  Wosta,  off  with  his  big  coat,  made  a  pillow  for  her 
head. 

"The  doctor  is  still  here,"  said  McCarthy,  "Fll  bring  him," 
and  away  he  ran.    In  a  few  seconds  the  doctor  arrived. 

"You  had  better  get  her  out  of  this  place  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible," he  said,  speaking  to  Miss  Brown.  Just  then  King 
entered.  Mary  Vann  jumped  up,  and,  before  he  could  say 
her  nay,  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him  twice. 
He  took  it  good-naturedly. 

"What's  this?"  he  said,  looking  at  Florence,  who  was 
stretched  as  if  dead  on  the  table. 

"It's  the  climax,"  said  the  doctor,  "in  a  little  while  she'll 
be  over  it,  but  we  must  get  her  out  of  here." 

"See  what  that  row  is,"  said  the  sheriff,  addressing  the 
bailiff  who  was  on  the  inside,  keeping  the  door  closed. 

The  bailiff  put  his  head  out  and  pulled  it  in,  laughing. 


584  THE   VERDICT 

"They're  mobbing  Hooligan.  Ha,  Ha,  Ha!"  the  bailiff 
laughed. 

"What's  that?"  inquired  McCarthy. 

"Why,  one  elderly  woman  has  flailed  him  over  the  head 
with  her  umbrella." 

"Well,  I  must  stop  this,"  said  the  sheriff,  going  toward 
the  door. 

"It's  all  right  now,  sir,  our  men  are  leading  him  along  the 
passage." 

"They're  taking  him  along  the  wrong  passage,"  remarked 
McCarthy,  looking  at  the  sheriff,  who  nodded  approval  to 
his  suggestion. 

The  bailiff  let  Mrs.  Long  in,  recognizing  her  as  one  of 
Florence's  friends  (she  must  have  left  the  room  during  the 
excitement  following  Florence's  fainting).  Her  hat  was  all 
askew  on  her  head,  she  was  brandishing  her  umbrella  in 
her  hand.  "If  I  could  only  have  got  one  poke  at  him,"  she 
exclaimed,  holding  her  umbrella  as  if  it  was  a  pike  in  a 
position  to  charge,  "I'd  a-fixed  the  ruffian.  As  it  is  I  gave 
him  a  couple  of  whacks  that  he'll  remember." 

John  Long  looked  admiringly  at  his  wife,  while  the  other 
men  present  exchanged  smiles. 

"Good  for  you,  Mrs.  Long,"  said  Mary  Vann,  enthusias- 
tically. 

Miss  Brown  was  bathing  Florence's  temples  and  chafing 
the  palms  of  her  hands.  At  length  she  opened  her  eyes 
and  stared  vacantly  around. 

"Come,  now,"  said  the  doctor,  "get  her  away  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"Yes,"  said  King,  "I  have  the  papers,"  handing  them  to 
the  sheriff. 

"There's  a  carriage  at  the  door,"  remarked  Scully. 

"Well,  we'll  go,"  said  Wosta,  picking  Florence  up  in  his 
big  arms  as  if  she  was  a  baby  and  making  for  the  door. 
"Mary,  you  look  after  my  coat,"  he  shouted.  "Come  on, 
Mrs.  Scully." 

"Miss  Brown,  you  had  better'go  with  them,"  said  Scully. 
"They're  going  to  the  Palmer  House.     I  want  you  to  stay 


THE   VKRniCT  585 

there  for  a  few  days,  if  you're  not  engaged.  Herman,  I'll 
take  care  of  your  father  and  mother  and  the  rest  of  the 
ladies." 

Herman  Wosta  wouldn't  wait  for  an  elevator,  but  car- 
ried his  burden  downstairs.  It  was  no  task  for  him.  Reach- 
ing the  carriage  he  placed  her  on  the  back  seat  and  sat 
down  beside  her.  Her  head  hung  limp  on  his  shoulder, 
Miss  Brown  got  in  and  sat  facing  her. 

"To  the  Palmer  House !  as  fast  as  you  can  !"  shouted  Mrs. 
Scully,  as  she  placed  her  foot  on  the  carriage  step  to  enter. 
Getting  in,  she  pulled  the  door  to  with  a  bang,  the  driver 
whipped  up  his  horses  and  as  the  carriage  drove  off  the 
crowd,  who  still  hung  around  the  criminal  court  building, 
set  up  a  cheer  which  could  be  distinctly  heard  in  the  room 
which  they  had  just  left. 

"Now  I  have  a  proposal  to  make,"  said  Scully,  after 
Florence  had  been  removed,  "and  I  hope  you'll  all  agree  to 
it.  I  feel  if  I  don't  get  something  to  eat  I'll  be  in  the  hands 
of  the  doctor;  so  I  suggest  we  all  adjourn  to  the  hotel  that's 
only  a  few  doors  from  here  and  have  a  meal." 

"A  very  wise  suggestion,"  chimed  in  the  doctor,  laughing. 
"What  do  you  say,  sheriff?" 

"Well,  I  must  have  something,  wherever  I  get  it,"  said 
the  official.    "I'm  played  out." 

"Well,  Mac,"  said  Scully,  "I'll  ask  you  to  be  advance 
guard ;  go  and  tell  them  to  prepare  a  room — there's  about 
ten  of  us.  Mother,"  addressing  Mrs.  Wosta,  "I'll  escort 
you.  Miss  Vann,  give  your  arm  to  Mr.  Wosta  ;  make  him 
believe  he's  young  again.  We  all  have  a  right  to  feel  happy, 
so  let  us  try  and  forget  our  troubles." 

"That's  the  way  to  talk,"  said  Mrs.  Long.  "John,"  to  her 
husband,  "you  take  care  of  Mrs.  Sloan — she's  troubled  with 
rheumatism." 

"Ill  help  her,"  said  Margy.     It  was  a  happy  group  that 
assembled  round  the  table  in  the  Revere  House. 
******  ** 

Hooligan  reached  his  temple  of  personal  liberty  about  ten 
o'clock,  much  the  worse  for  wear. 


586  AU    REVOIR 

"Business  for  me  now,"  as  he  put  on  his  white  apron. 

Boys  could  be  heard  in  the  street  roaring  out,  "Full  ac- 
count of  the  trial  and  acquittal  of  Florence  Burdett  and 
mobbing-  of  one  of  the  state's  witnesses." 

"Go  get  me  one  of  them  papers,"  he  said,  to  one  of  the 
regulars,  giving  him  a  cent.  In  a  short  time  the  man  came 
back.    "He  wants  two  cents  for  it." 

"Another  robbery,"  said  Hooligan.  "But  why  didn't  you 
bring  one?" 

"I  hadn't  another  cent." 

"Well,  here,"  giving  him  another  penny.  When  the  paper 
was  brought  Hooligan  scanned  down  a  column  till  his  eyes 
struck  a  paragraph.  He  shoved  the  paper  away  from  him, 
and  then  brought  it  closer  to  his  vision.  The  consumers 
looked  inquiringly  toward  him — he  looked  as  if  he  couldn't 
believe  his  eyes  and  at  last  exclaiming,  "Well,  I'll  be 
damned,"  threw  the  paper  away  as  if  in  disgust. 

What  had  called  forth  this  expression  was  an  item  which 
read,  "The  gentleman  who  has  interested  himself  so  much 
in  the  case  of  Miss  Burdett,  and  to  whom  no  doubt  she  owes 
her  life  and  liberty,  was  once  a  resident  of  this  city,  and 
known  to  some  of  the  leading  characters  in  the  all-absorb- 
ing drama.  He  is  now  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  West. 
His  name  is  Michael  Scully." 


Chapter  LVIII. 


AU    REVOIR. 


As  soon  as  the  carriage  reached  the  entrance  to  the 
Palmer  House  Mrs.  Scully  got  out.  "Now,  Herman,  be 
careful  and  follow  me." 

Herman  picked  his  charge  up  in  his  arms  and  followed 
Mrs.  Scully  and  Miss  Brown  ;  a  porter  looked  on  inquiringly. 

"Tell  the  manager  to  come  to  my  suite,"  said  Mrs.  Scully, 
addressing  him. 


AU    RF,VOIR  587 

A  number  of  loungers  around  the  corridor  looked  on  in 
wonder  at  a  big  stalwart  policeman  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  car- 
rying a  female  up  the  stairs  leading  to  the  parlor  floor. 

Aliss  Brown  went  directly  to  the  booth  and  telephoned 
for  Doctor  Fitzgerald  to  come  right  away.  "Urgent,"  she 
said,  in  answer  to  his  inquiry. 

The  manager  of  the  hotel  went  to  see  what  Mrs.  Scully 
required. 

"I  want  another  room  adjoining  these,  if  you  have  one. 
I  have  a  friend  who  is  not  strong,  and  she  is  going  to  stay 
with  me  for  a  few  days." 

"I  am  very  much  pleased  to  be  able  to  accommodate  you, 
madam — hope  your  friend  is  not  very  sick?" 

"No,  only  run  down ;  she  will  be  better  in  a  few  days." 

Fitzgerald  arrived,  shook  hands  with  Miss  Brown,  was 
delighted  to  meet  Mrs.  Scully,  and  then  examined  the 
patient,  who  was  already  disrobed  and  in  bed.  The  three  of 
them  then  retired  to  an  adjoining  room. 

"She'll  be  all  right  in  a  few  days,  the  mental  strain  has 
told  on  her  —  no  wonder,  in  fact,  she's  much  better  than 
might  be  expected.    Miss  Brown  can  attend  to  her." 

"Well,  doctor,  since  you  and  Miss  Brown  have  a  good 
understanding,  I  want  you  to  call  at  least  for  the  next  three 
days,  I  want  you  to  meet  my  husband.  You  will  please 
give  no  publicity  as  to  who  your  patient  is  or  where  she  is 
located." 

"I  understand,  madam  ;  Miss  Brown,  you  will  see  to  hav- 
ing that  prescription  filled,  and  keep  her  quiet.  Let  no  one 
irritate  her." 

Bright  and  early  the  following  day  Father  Nolan  arrived. 
He  stood  by  the  bedside  of  the  sick  woman. 

"Oh,  she's  all  right  nov^^  Father,"  said  Miss  Brown. 

"She  is.    God  bless  her,"  said  the  kindly  priest. 

Florence  looked  up  into  his  countenance ;  she  felt  at 
peace.  "Don't  talk  now,"  he  said  to  her.  "Mrs.  Scully  says 
you  are  going  away  with  her — come  and  see  me  before  you 
go."    He  took  her  hand  in  his  and  gently  pressed  it. 

Herman  Wosta  arrived  shortly  after ;  McCarthy  had  got 


588  AU    REVOIR 

him  a  week's  leave  of  absence.  He  reported  that  his  mother 
and  father  had  got  safe  home ;  the  old  man  felt  good  and  his 
mother  hadn't  felt  so  well  for  years.  This  news  brought  a 
happy  smile  to  Florence's  face.  Just  then  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  bedroom  door.  "Come  in,"  said  Miss  Brown, 
and  Scully  entered. 

"Hello,  Herman,  how  are  you  today?" 

"Never  felt  better,"  rising  and  shaking  hands. 

"Now,  if  you  gentlemen  are  going  to  talk,"  said  Miss 
Brown,  "I  will  have  to  request  you  to  go  into  the  parlor," 
smiling. 

"Let  them  stay,"  said  Florence.  "I  like  to  hear  them 
talk." 

"There  are  some  gentlemen  outside  who  want  to  see  you, 
Mike,"  said  his  wife,  entering  the  room. 

"Then  you'll  excuse  me."  Scully  went  to  the  parlor  en- 
trance. There  were  five  young  men,  reporters,  wanting  to 
interview  him. 

"Well,  this  is  an  unexpected  honor,"  he  said,  addressing 
them.    "Come  in,  now  be  seated ;  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"We  want  to  interview  you." 

"I'll  be  only  too  happy  to  give  you  boys  any  information 
you  want  that  may  prove  interesting  to  your  readers,  and 
that  will  help  you  to  frame  a  story ;  but  you  know  I'm  a 
Western  man  and  must  first  show  my  hospitality.  What 
will  you  all  take?"  as  he  rang  the  bell.  The  reporters  looked 
at  one  another.  The  waiter  arived,  "Take  these  gentlemen's 
orders,  and  bring  up  a  box  of  cigars.  They  know  the  kind 
I  use  at  the  office." 

When  the  drinks  and  cigars  arrived,  each  of  the  reporters 
lit  a  cigar.    "Now  go  ahead,"  said  Scully. 

"Well,"  said  the  spokesman,  "we  came  here  to  pump  you ; 
but,  as  we  know  you're  a  good  fellow,  tell  us  as  much  as 
you  like." 

"You're  sure  you'll  not  add  to  it?"  said  Mike,  laughing. 

"No,  we'll  treat  you  right." 

"Well,  my  name  is  Mike  Scully.    I  was  born  on  the  West 


AU    REVOIR  589 

Side.     Some  ten  years  ago  I  went  West  and  got  a  job  on  a 
ranch.     I  was  a  good  boy " 

"And  a  good  looker,"  chimed  in  one  of  them. 

"Well,  probably  my  wife  thought  so,  and,  as  the  story 
goes,  after  a  time  I  married  my  employer's  daughter  and 
lived  happy  ever  after." 

"Pretty  good,"  said  one  of  his  listeners.    "Is  that  all?" 

"No,  we  have  four  children,  two  boys  and  two  girls,  and  a 
little  property." 

"I  should  guess  so,"  remarked  one  of  them,  looking  round. 
"How  many  rooms  have  you  here?" 

"Four." 

"For  two  of  you?" 

"My  wife  and  me  ,  by  the  way,  here  she  is.     Mrs. 

Scully,  let  me  introduce  you  to  the  Chicago  press."     The 
lady  smiled,  the  gentlemen  stood  up  and  bowed. 

"I  have  the  Chicago  Times  here  of  November  — ,  188 — ," 
said  one  of  his  visitors.  "I'll  read  you  an  item  in  it.  We 
want  to  know  if  you're  the  same  Mike  Scully."  As  he  read, 
Mrs.  Scully  became  deeply  interested. 

"Yes.  that  was  I,  but  of  course  you  know  it's  embel- 
lished some." 

"I  know  it's  not,"  said  one  of  the  reporters,  who  was 
somewhat  older  than  the  rest,  "for  I  was  there  at  the  time." 

"Well,  let  it  go  as  you  said,"  replied  Mike,  whose  wife 
had  come  and  placed  her  arm  on  his  shoulder. 

"Now,  one  more  question,  Mr.  Scully  ;  how  came  you  to 
take  such  an  interest  in  Miss  Burdett?" 

"Well,  when  I  came  to  Chicago  I  learned  who  her  ene- 
mies were — I  knew  they  were  a  bad  crowd,  and  thought 
probably  she  had  been  badly  used.  I  made  inquiries,  satis- 
fied myself  as  to  the  facts,  and  determined  to  help  her." 
"\^ou  have  her  here,  we  understand.  Can  we  see  her?" 
"No,  she's  too  sick,  and  I  know  you  fellow^s  are  all  too 
manlv  to  harrass  a  woman  who  has  gone  through  what  she 
has." 

"I  guess  you're  right,"  said  one  of  them,   standing  up, 


590  AU    REVOIR 

"we'll   give  the  sheriff  of  County.   Montana,   a   good 

puff,  anyway." 

Mike  was  surprised  they  knew  so  much.  "\\  ell,  since  you 
know  where  I  live,  if  ever  you  come  my  way,  I'll  treat  you 
right." 

"You  won't  pinch  us,  will  you?" 

"Only  for  horse  stealing,"  laughing.  "Come,  take  another 
cigar  before  you  go." 

The  next  morning's  papers  had  a  flattering  notice  of  Mike 
Scully  and  his  charming  wife,  with  an  allusion  to  Scully's 
heroism  in  the  rescue  of  Tony  Murphy. 

The  third  evening  saw  Florence  sitting  up.  Mary  Vann 
and  her  uncle  were  in  the  parlor,  Florence  had  told  Mary  of 
her  intention  to  leave  Chicago  forever. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  property?"  inquired 
Mary. 

"Going  to  leave  everything  behind  me." 

"That's  foolish;  why,  you  have  some  valuable  jewelry." 

"I  don't  care.  Uncle  Herman  will  have  to  do  what  he 
pleases  with  them." 

"The  furniture,  too?" 

"Yes,  everything.  What  I  would  like  to  have  done  with 
it,  if  my  grandparents  would  accept,  is  that  it  should  all  be 
sold,  and  that  they  should  buy  a  home  with  the  proceeds. 
No  one  has  any  claim  on  it,  but,  if  they  won't  agree  to  that, 
then  Herman  must  decide." 

"Mr.  Scully  has  been  to  a  great  expense  in  this  trial,"  re- 
marked Herman. 

"I  mentioned  that  and  told  them  I  would  have  to  work  to 
repay  them.  Mrs.  Scull}'  laughed  at  me  and  told  me  if  I 
ever  mentioned  it  again  she  would  quarrel  with  me.  No, 
Herman,  with  the  articles  I  have  you  use  your  judgment. 
Mr.  Scully  has  had  Mr.  King  draw  up  a  list  of  them  and  a 
deed  making  them  all  over  to  you." 

Herman  looked  at  Mary  Vann,  who  said,  "Well,  if  that's 
your  determination,  Herman  will  have  to  accept  the  respon- 
sibility." 

"I  should  like  to  have  a  stone  placed  over  my  mother's 


AU    REVOIR  591 

grave."     Tears  began   to   trickle   down   her   cheeks   at   tke 
thought  of  it. 

"You  never  mind,"  said  Herman,  "I'll  attend  to  that." 

Scully  and  his  w^ife  were  busy  making  preparations  fur 
their  departure.  Mrs.  Scully  wanted  to  leave  an  order  for 
school  books ;  Florence  furnished  her  with  a  list. 

Scully  called  on  the  sheriff,  thanking  him  for  his  courtes) 
and  hoped  he  would  have  the  pleasure  of  entertaining  hir.; 
out  West. 

"Let's  call  on  the  state's  attorney,"  said  the  sheriff,  "and 
see  how  he  feels."  When  they  entered  the  office  of  the 
prosecutor  he  rose  and  shook  hands  with  them.  "Well,  it 
was  a  good  fight,  Scully,  and  you  and  King  won,  but  as 
true  as  I'm  a  man,  I'm  glad  you  did ;  I  did  what  I  believed 
to  be  my  duty — how  is  the  woman  ?" 

"She's  improving." 

"Well,  I  know  she  won't  believe  I'm  glad  she  was  ac- 
quitted, but  give  her  my  best  regards,  anyway,  and  the  same 
to  your  wife." 

"W^ell,  make  a  promise,"  said  Scully,  "some  day,  you'll 
come  out  to  our  country  and  square  yourself." 

"I  would  very  much  like;  perhaps  I'may  some  day." 

Mrs.  Scully  sent  a  note  to  Miss  Margaret  Jenkins  to  visit 
her  and  bring  her  boy  with  her. 

Florence  expressed  her  deep-felt  gratitude  to  Margy 
when  she  came.  "Margaret,"  she  said,  "I  only  remember 
your  loyalty  to  me  in  my  hour  of  trial." 

Margy  had  to  shed  a  few  tears.  "You  were  too  good  to 
me,  Florence,  I  didn't  deserve  it.  The  day  I  met  you,  years 
ago,  when  you  gave  me  the  five-dollar  bill,  was  the  turn  in 
the  tide  of  my  affairs,  and  you  having  Miss  Vann  to  get  me 
the  place." 

"How  much  salary  have  you  now,  Margy?" 

"Twelve  dollars.     I  run  one  of  the  departments." 

When  Margy  was  leaving  Mrs.  Scully  took  her  boy  on 
her  knee.  "Now,  my  little  man,  I  am  going  to  make  you  a 
present.    You  must  not  look  at  it  till  you  get  home."     She 


592  AU    REVOIR 

shoved  it  into  his  pocket.  Margy  smiled  as  she  saw  her 
place  it  there. 

When  they  got  home  she  asked  him  to  show  her  what  the 
kind  lady  had  given  him ;  he  unwrapped  a  little  parcel  and 
found  enclosed  a  large  sized  bill,  of  more  value  than  his 
mother  had  ever  been  possessed  of  at  one  time. 

The  parting  of  Florence  and  her  grandparents,  the  Longs 
and  Mrs.  Sloan,  was  at  the  old  home,  where  her  father  and 
mother  first  made  love.  It  awoke  some  memories  in  the  old 
couple  that  made  them  sad,  but  they  wished  their  grand- 
daughter Godspeed  and  happiness  in  her  new  home. 

"I  will  write  you  at  least  once  a  month,  grandma  and 
grandpa,"  were  her  parting  words. 

"God  be  with  you,  my  child." 

As  Herman  and  she  went  down  the  street,  she  turned  and 
kissed  her  hand  to  the  group  who  still  stood  at  the  door. 

Scully  took  a  trip  to  Joliet  and  thanked  Rock.  "Keep 
your  heart  up,"  he  said  in  leaving  him,  "I'll  probably  be  able 
to  do  something  for  you." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  one  thing  you  can  do.  Ask  the  warden 
to  let  Margy  and  the  boy  come  and  see  me.  She's  a  little 
brick,  and  as  game  as  they  make  'em ;  when  I  get  out  of 
here  it's  a  bee-line  to  Margy,  and,  if  she'll  forgive  me,  it's 
me  and  her  partners  for  life." 

"All  right,  I'll  fix  it  for  you."    And  so  he  did. 

When  Rock  was  removed  Scully  said  to  the  warden, 
"Now,  there's  one  thing  I  want  you  to  do  for  me;  you  have 
two  men  here,  John  Bert  and  Joseph  Phipps,  I  would  like 
to  see  them." 

"Yes,  them's  the  two  that  came  the  same  time  as  Rock." 

"Yes,  I  w&nt  to  talk  to  them  in  private." 

When  Bert  and  Phipps  were  brought  in  they  looked  at 
the  big  burly  man  with  the  full  beard.  He  extended  his 
hand  and  they  shook  it  mechanically.  "You  don't  know 
me?"  They  both  looked  at  him  for  a  few  moments  and  then 
shook  their  heads.  Mike  began  to  allude  to  some  of  their 
early  innocent  escapades,  when   they  played   marbles   to- 


Holy  Family  Church 


AU   REVOIR  593 

gether.  They  smiled  as  he  recounted  some  of  them.  "So 
you  don't  know  me?" 

"No,"  said  Bert,  "I  was  thinkins;  of  somebody,  but  you 
can't  be  he." 

Phipps  was  scrutinizing  him  closely.  "You  can't  be 
Mike  Scully?" 

"That's  just  who  I  am." 

They  laughed  and  chatted  together  for  a  full  half  hour. 
Mike  told  them  a  little  of  his  experiences  and  how  he  had 
prospered.  They  rejoiced.  "You  know,  Mike,"  said  Bert, 
"we  always  looked  up  to  you." 

"Well,  you  can  look  up  to  me  again.  When  you  get  out 
of  here  I  want  you  to  come  out  West.  I'll  make  all  arrange- 
ments with  B.  T.  King,  the  attorney,  for  your  outfit  and 
transportation,  but  I  want  to  exact  one  promise  from  you; 
that  is,  not  to  tarry  in  Chicago.  Like  myself,  you  have  no 
one  to  mourn  over  there." 

"Agreed."    They  shook  hands  and  parted. 

The  Sunday  morning  after  the  trial  a  closed  carriage 
drove  up  in  front  of  the  Holy  Family  Church,  two  men  and 
two  women  stepped  out,  one  of  the  women  wearing  a  heavy 
veil.  They  walked  down  the  aisle  until  they  were  ushered 
into  a  seat.  The  two  men  and  one  of  the  women  crossed 
themselves  devoutly,  the  woman  wearing  the  veil  knelt  and 
prayed.  When  services  were  over  they  all  went  towards 
the  rectory  and  were  immediately  conducted  to  an  anteroom 
and  Father  Nolan  was  sent  for. 

"We  came  to  bid  you  farewell,  father,"  said  Mike ;  "we 
leave  tomorrow.  This  is  Sergeant  McCarthy,  a  gentleman 
to  whom  I  am  much  indebted." 

"I  am  pleased  to  meet  him.    How  are  you.  Miss  Burdett?" 

"I  feel  well  and  happy,  your  reverence.  I  felt  the  effects 
of  your  blessing  from  the  first  time  you  visited  me ;  and. 
with  God's  help,  I  will  follow  your  advice." 

"Well,  my  child,  I  won't  see  you,  probably,  any  more  to 
advise  you ;  but  you  are  in  good  hands.  It  is  not  my  inten- 
tion to  tamper  with  your  faith,  but  be  good,  anyway.  What's 
the  name  of  your  pastor  out  there,  Mr.  Scully?" 


594  FINEM    RESPICE 

"Rev.  Father  Chadwick." 

"Then  tell  him,  for  me,  that  while  this  lady  is  not  of  our 
faith,  still  I  am  specially  interested  in  her;  and  as  she's  going 
to  teach  school,  he  may  safely  intrust  his  children  in  her 
keeping  until  such  time  as  he  can  organize  a  school  of  his 
own.     I  will  also  write  him." 

"Well,  good-bye,  father."  They  all  shook  hands,  the 
priest  going  with  them  to  the  door  and  invoking  God's  bless- 
ing on  them  as  they  left. 

On  the  day  of  their  departure  Herman  Wosta  and  Mary 
Vann  saw  them  off.  "Now,  Mary,"  said  Florence,  "I  must 
depend  upon  you  to  write  me." 

"Do  you  think  I'm  not  going  to  write  to  you?"  said  Her- 
man. 

"I  know  you  are,  uncle ;  but  you  will  be  busy.  Let  you 
and  Mary  decide  what  you  are  going  to  do  for  grandpa  and 
grandma — I  may  never  see  you  again." 

"All  aboard,"  shouted  the  conductor. 

"Good-bye,  Uncle;  good-bye,  Mary,"  as  the  train  started 
to  bear  her  from  the  scene  of  her  many  trials. 


Chapter  LIX. 
finem  respice. 

The  lady  members  of  the  school  board  of  Monroe  town- 
ship having  been  advised  of  the  time  their  president  and  the 
school  teacher  would  arrive,  resolved  to  meet  them  at  the 
depot  and  escort  them  to  the  Monroe  homestead,  where  a 
special  luncheon  had  been  prepared. 

Monroe,  with  the  four  youngsters  and  their  nurse,  was 
going,  the  nurse  and  the  three  younger  children  in  a  car- 
riage, George  driving.  Monroe  and  his  grandson  had  the 
democrat  wagon,  young  John  handling  the  lines.  An  empty 
carriage  had  to  be  taken  along  for  the  school  ma'am — if  she 
wasn't  coming  they  would  just  have  taken  a  saddle  horse 
for  Mrs.  Scully,  they  knew  she'd  prefer  it. 


FIXEM    RESPICE  595 

Smith,  Stone  and  Shanks  got  a  number  of  the  fellows  to- 
gether to  go  meet  the  boss.  The  whole  outfit  wanted  to  go 
— as  one  of  the  young  men  said,  it  wasn't  so  much  to  meet 
the  boss,  as  to  get  a  look  at  the  new  school  ma'am.  As  the 
train  neared  the  station,  Mike  put  his  head  out  and,  as  he 
drew  it  in  again,  said,  "Well.  \^irgie,  I  see  you're  going  to 
get  a  reception." 

"Who's  there?"  she  inquired. 

"Mrs.  Bronson,  Mrs.  Randall,  Miss  Roloff,  Miss  Winegart 
and  a  number  of  others." 

Mrs.  Scully  smiled  at  Florence.  "Those  are  the  officers 
of  the  school  board.  I'm  sure  you'll  like  them,  Florence — 
they  are  all  good  souls." 

As  the  train  stopped  there  were  a  dozen  women  in  front 
on  the  platform,  all  in  short  skirts,  and  between  forty  and 
fifty  men  behind  them,  in  regular  cowboy  costume.  Mike 
jumped  oflf  the  train,  followed  by  Mrs.  Scully,  Florence 
bringing  up  the  rear.  The  committee  hugged  Mrs.  Scully, 
kissed  her  and  weclomed  her  back,  then  she  introduced 
Florence  and  the  ladies  shook  hands  with  her. 

"There's  father!"  Virgie  shouted,  as  she  saw  Monroe  and 
her  eldest  son  trying  to  crowd  by  the  women.  Then  her 
three  younger  children  were  brought  to  her,  each  on  the 
shoulder  of  a  cowboy.  The  youngest  she  took  in  her  arms, 
after  kissing  them  all  in  turn.  "Miss  Burdett,  this  is  my 
father."    The  old  man  dofifed  his  hat  in  gallant  style. 

Florence  was  bewildered  at  the  sight,  she  had  been  in 
many  lands  and  met  many  people,  but  never  anything  so 
full  of  life  and  color  as  this. 

Scully  looked  aroimd  in  hopes  of  seeing  Mort.  As  he 
wasn't  there,  he  inquired,  "How  is  the  new  man  getting  on. 
Smith?" 

"First  class;  he's  a  very  handy  fellow — can  put  his  hand 
to  anything — the  old  man's  stuck  on  him.'' 

"That's  good." 

"Come,  let's  be  going,"  said  Monroe.  They  all  walked 
toward  the  ferry.  Mike  had  Anastasia  in  his  arms,  Mrs. 
Scully  the  younger  child. 


596  FINEM    RESPICE 

"Take  that  lady's  hand,''  addressing  her  youngest  boy, 
who  gave  his  hand  to  Florence.  Reaching  the  ferry,  it  took 
some  time  to  get  them  all  across. 

"Are  we  all  here  now,  George?"  said  Monroe,  addressing 
the  colored  man. 

"Yes,  sah." 

"Then  let  us  be  going."  Florence,  Mrs.  Scully,  and  the 
three  young  children  crowded  into  the  carriage  George  was 
driving.    A  horse  had  been  brought  for  Mike. 

"Come,  girls,"  shouted  Mrs.  Bronson,  The  ladies'  com- 
mittee vaulted  into  their  saddles ;  the  men  then  mounted 
their  horses  and  they  started. 

It  seemed  like  a  dream  to  Florence.  The  women  on  horse- 
back crowded  around  the  carriage,  and  kept  chatting  to  Mrs. 
Scully  and  the  new  teacher,  all  hoping  she'd  like  the  place. 

A  month  afterward  she  wrote  home  a  letter  addressed  to 
her  uncle,  a  good  long  letter,  in  which  she  said  in  part: 

"Uncle,  this  is  like  heaven.  Every  one  so  good  and  kind 
to  me,  the  children  are  so  mannerly  I'm  surprised,  and  the 
men  here  have  rough  exteriors  but  their  hearts  are  like 
gold.  *  *  *  Love  to  all.  P.  S. — I  have  written  to  Mary 
Vann." 

Florence  had  been  six  months  in  Montana  when  she  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Mary  Vann,  which  read : 

"My  dear  Florence — I  have  left  the  Cleveland  store,  an^d 
stored  all  the  furniture  I  had  in  my  flat.  My  greatest  trou- 
ble is  with  your  Uncle  Herman.  I  have  refused  him  seven- 
teen times.  I  have  told  him  all  I  dared.  A  month  after 
you  left  I  severed  all  my  connections  and  am  living  out 
South — you  know  I  have  a  few  thousand  dollars  invested 
and  am  all  right.  Your  grandparents  are  going  to  move  in- 
to their  own  home  next  week  and  they  want  me  to  go  stay 
with  them.    I  would,  only  for  Herman." 

Florence  wrote  back : 

"My  Dear  Mary — I,  too,  have  my  troubles.  There  are  at 
least  ten  men  to  one  woman  out  here,  so  I  need  hardly  tell 
you  that  women  are  in  demand ;  of  course,  the  men  are  re- 
spectful to  me,  but  their  attentions  are  sometimes  irksome. 


FINEM    RESPICE  597 

You  know  I  have  had  enough  to  do  with  men  for  life ;  as  for 
you  and  Herman,  I  couldn't  advise  you.  We  have  one  very 
gentlemanly  person  out  here,  they  call  him  Hank.  He 
seems  to  be  a  very  close  friend  of  Mr.  Scully.  He's  from 
Chicago,  I  feel  confident  he  knows  some  of  the  people  I 
used  to  know  but  he  never  mentions  any  of  them,  and  of 
course  I  don't  ask  him.    How  is  ]\Iargy  getting  on?" 

Florence  had  been  just  a  3'ear  in  Montana  when  she  got 
a  letter  from  Mary  Vann : 

"My  Dear  Florence — I  have  surrendered.  The  sergeant 
(note  the  promotion)  had  asked  me  the  twenty-third  time, 
you  know  they  say  that's  an  unlucky  number.  He  said  he 
would  take  me  for  better  or  worse.  I  said  there  is  no  better, 
it  is  all  worse.  Then  he  said,  'I'll  take  you  for  all  worse.' 
'Listen  to  me,'  I  said.  'No,  I  won't.  I  don't  want  to  hear 
any  confession,'  he  said.  So  I  lowered  my  flag  and  sur- 
rendered unconditionally.  We're  going  to  be  married  next 
month.    Your  prospective  aunt, 

Mary  Vann." 

"P.  S. — Miss  Jones  is  now  head  of  the  millinery  depart- 
ment in  the  Cleveland  store  and  told  me  to  send  you  her 
love.  She  says  she  knows  she  owps  everything  to  you. 
Miss  Brown  is  going  to  be  married  to  Doctor  Fitzgerald — 
you  remember  him?  Margy  has  been  to  see  Rock  two  or 
three  times — she  always  comes  back  broken-hearted.  She 
knows,  or  thinks  she  does,  that  when  Rock  gets  out  Jie'll  be 
a  good  man.    Let  us  hope  so,  for  her  sake. — M.  V." 

Florence  wrote  back : 

"I  wish  you  joy,  Mary,  I  know  you  will  be  good  and  true 
to  him,  as  you  were  always  loyal  to  me.  I  am  now  a  pillar 
of  Father  Chadwick's  church,  and  teach  Sunday-school  for 
him.  Henry  Mort  —  Hank,  as  I  mentioned  to  you  in  a 
former  letter — does  the  collecting  for  him.  He  always  sees 
me  home,  so  I  am  not  bothered  much  with  other  fellows. 
I  have  a  notion  to  feel  Henry  out  some  time,  to  see  what  he 
knows  about  me ;  I  don't  like  to  ask  Mr.  Scully,  but  I  begin 
to  believe  they  are  old  acquaintances.  Mr.  Monroe,  that  is 
Mrs.  Scully's  father,  is  a  grand  old  man  —  he  often  jokes 


598  FINEM    RESPICE 

me  tliat  he  won't  be  satisfied  until  he  gets  me  a  good,  rich 
husband.     I  can't  help  laughing  at  him. 

Mike  Scully  about  this  time  received  a  letter  from  Ser- 
geant McCarthy.  It  was  so  good,  he  had  to  send  over  for 
Henry  Mort,  to  read  it  to  him.    It  read  in  part : 

"Hooligan  has  moved  over  to  the  South  Side,  and  has 
opened  a  place  near  Polk  and  Clark  Streets.  It's  a  pretty 
swell  place,  he  is  still  long  on  pictures,  but  instead  of  the 
Battle  of  Fontenoy,  which  used  to  be  his  principal  work  of 
art,  now  he  has  a  large  picture  of  the  'female  form  divine,' 
as  they  say.  She's  life-size  and  even  devoid  of  garters.  You 
remember  the  two  pictures  he  had,  one  of  Dan  O'Connell 
and  the  other  of  Robert  Emmet? — well,  Robert  has  disap- 
peared and  John  L.  Sullivan  has  taken  his  place ;  The  Great 
Emancipator  has  been  removed  and  a  picture  of  the  'Bath 
House'  substituted.  Both  the  frames  he  has  had  gilt 
anew,  and  points  to  them  with  pride.  Over  the  saloon  a 
lady  by  the  name  of  Marie  Ruinnetti  runs  an  establishment. 
There  is  a  great,  big  red  globe  out  at  an  elevation  of  the 
second  story  window  —  you  will  note  the  change  in  the 
woman's  name,  when  we  first  knew  her  her  name  was  Moll 
Runt.  Hooligan  is  as  devoted  to  the  alderman  of  the  first 
as  he  was  to  the  one  of  'teenth.  In  speaking  to  one  of  our 
men  the  other  day  Hooligan  was  lamenting  all  the  years 
he  wasted  on  the  West  Side,  'amongst  a  lot  of  tarriers,'  as 
he  calls  those  who  hadn't  a  proper  appreciation  of  his  ser- 
vices." 

Five  weeks  after  Florence  had  heard  of  Mary's  prospec- 
tive marriage  with  her  uncle,  she  received  another  letter 
which  began  : 

"My  Dear  Niece  —  We've  been  and  gone  and  done  it. 
Please  address  your  next  letter  Mrs.  Herman  Wosta.  I 
have  bought  a  house  in  the  same  block  as  your  grandfather's 
and  have  settled  down  for  life.  Hope  to  visit  you  some  day. 
Your  afifectionate  aunt, 

Mary  Wosta." 

Florence  cried  when  she  read  the  letter,  and  wrote 
promptly  in  return : 


FINEM    RESPICE  599 

"I  wish  you  every  joy.  I  look  forward  to  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  you.  It's  splendid,  to  have  a  man  that  loves  you 
for  what  you  are  worth ;  who  takes  you  for  a  partner,  and 
who  has  no  entangling  alliances  with  any  other  woman.  I 
am  sure  Herman  is  such  a  man.  May  God  bless  you  both. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Scully  send  their  best  regards,  and  have  told 
me  to  invite  you  both  out. 

"I  am.happy.  Henry  Mort  is  all  attention  to  me;  in  spite 
of  my  antipathy  to  his  sex,  I  begin  to  have  a  kindly  regard 
for  him.  He's  a  fine  fellow.  Mr.  Scully  said  the  other 
evening  he  intended  to  give  him  a  partnership  in  the  large 
store,  and  let  him  run  it,  as  he,  Mr.  Scully,  has  so  much  to 
do. 

"I  have  resolved  to  ask  Henry  some  day  what  he  knows 
about  me.  I  did  ask  him  one  day  what  he  knew  about  Chi- 
cago, and  he  said  he  knew  too  much  and  wanted  to  forget  it. 
I  saw  my  inquiry  disturbed  him,  so  dropped  the  subject." 

A  month  afterward  Florence  wrote  another  letter  to  her 
aunt : 

"I  have  learned  a  secret.  Mrs.  Scully  told  me  that  her 
husband  and  Henry  Mort  were  brought  up,  boys,  together, 
that  they  were  both  wild  young  fellows  in  their  day,  and 
that  Henry  knew  me  from  the  time  I  was  a  girl.  I  asked 
her  if  Mr.  Scully  told  him  of  my  trouble,  and  she  said,  'No, 
Henry  told  Mr.  Scully,'  and  it  was  he  that  led  Mr.  Scully  to 
go  to  Chicago  and  see  fair  play  for  me.  Wasn't  it  good  of 
him?  When  I  came  to  think  over  it,  I  remembered  hearing 
the  name  of  Mort,  but  couldn't  locate  him.  Well,  one  Sun- 
day when  he  was  seeing  me  home  from  church  I  threw  so 
broad  a  hint  to  him,  about  knowing  something  about  his 
early  career,  that  he  stood  and  stared  at  me.  'I  want  you  to 
come  out  v/ith  me  this  afternoon,'  he  said,  so  I  consented. 
I  forgot  to  tell  you  I've  learned  to  ride  a  horse  —  all  the 
women  ride  horses  out  here,  just  like  the  men.  So  that 
afternoon  we  took  a  long  ride  over  the  mountains.  When 
we  came  to  a  quiet  spot  we  dismounted  and  sat  down  on  a 
rock.  'Now,  tell  me  what  you  know  about  me,'  he  said.  I 
felt  somewhat  embarrassed  at  first,  so  said,  'I  only  know 


bOO  FINEM    RESPICE 

that  you  and  Mr.  Scull}^  were  brought  up  together  and  that 
you  were  wild  boys.'  He  laughed,  and,  turning  to  me  said, 
'Florence,  I  never  intended  to  say  a  word  to  you  about  what 
I  know  about  you,  nor  never  would,  only  I  recognized  your 
curiosity.  But  I  know  you  from  the  time  you  were  little 
more  than  a  child.  I  knew  how  you  were  wa-onged,  the 
temptation  that  was  thrown  in  your  way,  and  how  you  have 
suffered.  Let  it  rest  at  that.  You  cannot  be  blind  to  the 
feeling  I  have  for  you ;  say  the  word  and  make  me  happy.' 
I  had  to  cry,  he  was  so  tender  to  my  feelings.  He  kissed  me 
and  said  kind  words  to  me.  'Come,  Florence,  let  us  look  to 
the  future.'  I  asked  him  if  he  thought  he  could  be  happy 
with  me,  knowing  all  he  did.  He  said,  'I  cannot  be  happy 
without  you.'  He  kissed  me  again  and  again.  Can  you 
blame  me  for  letting  him?  So  I  consented  and  told  Mrs. 
Scully.  She  said  she  was  delighted.  Mr.  Scully  said  he 
would  stake  his  life  on  Henry,  that  I  need  not  be  afraid  of 
him,  he  was  always  a  man  ;  and  knew  how  to  respect  a 
woman,  even  in  his  worst  days.  Well,  it  seemed  settled, 
so  Mrs.  Scully  called  the  school  board  together  and  told 
them  they  were  likely  to  lose  their  school-teacher.  They  all 
said  they  were  sorry,  so  Mrs.  Bronson — she's  the  treasurer 
— suggested  that  as  I  was  going  to  be  married,  probably  my 
husband  would  require  me  to  help  him  in  his  business,  but 
that  if  I  was  willing  to  accept  the  position  of  principal  and 
look  over  the  supervision  of  the  school,  they  would  get 
another  teacher  and  that  my  salary  would  remain  as  it  was. 
They  called  me  in  and  told  me.  I  said  I  was  willing  to  do 
all  I  could  and  would  accept  the  position,  but  that  I  would 
not  take  any  salary.  To  this  many  of  them  demurred,  but 
the  matter  was  settled  by  Mrs.  Randall  saying  that  they 
could  make  it  up  for  Miss  Burdett  in  some  other  way ;  and 
theiTThey  passed  resolutions  complimenting  me  for  my  past 
services,  and  voted  me  principal  of  the  Jefferson  School  of 
Monroe  Township.  My  dear  aunt.  I  feel  as  if  I  was  in  a 
new  world,  among  new  people.     Love  to  all. 

Florence  Burdett." 


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•     FINEM    RESPICE  601 

It  was  a  bright  day  in  the  autumn  of  190 — ,  the  sun  was 
gilding  the  top  of  Pine  Ridge.  A  pony  cart  could  be  seen 
coming  down  the  pass.  A  boy  was  driving — he  couldn't  be 
over  six  years  old.  Seated  beside  him  was  a  little  girl  who 
didn't  seem  over  three.  On  the}-  came  till  they  reached  the 
large  store  at  the  corner  of  Monroe  avenue  and  Main  street, 
where  the  boy  pulled  up  the  pony. 

"There's  one  of  my  boys,"  said  Monroe,  who  was  gossip- 
ing with  Stringer,  Roloff,  Bronson  and  Randall.  They  were 
talking  about  horses  and  the  elegant  crops  they  had  that 
season. 

Henry  Mort,  hearing  Monroe's  remark  about  that  being 
one  of  his  boys,  ran  to  the  front  door  and  said,  "How  do, 
Mike — ar'nt  you  coming  in?" 

"Naw,"  said  the  boy,  in  somewhat  of  a  surly  tone,  "I 
want  to  see  Aunt  Flo." 

"Ah,  come  in  here,  I  have  all  the  candy  and  cake  and  jam." 

"Aunt  Flo  has  candy  and  cakes,  too,"  replied  the  bo3^ 

"Well,  she's  round  in  the  kitchen — what  have  you  been 
doing  to  3^our  sister?" 

"O,  she's  a  scared}^  cat,"  replied  the  boy,  as  he  started  his 
pony  up  for  the  rear  of  the  house. 

As  soon  as  he  reached  the  kitchen  Mrs.  Mort  ran  out  and 
seeing  that  the  girl  had  been  crying,  said,  "Dear  me, 
Michael,  what  has  Virgie  been  crying  for?" 

"Well,  you  see.  Aunt  Flo,  I  took  her  for  a  drive  over  the 
Ridge  and  when  we  were  just  up  by  that  narrow  place,  by 
the  Eagle's  Nest,  she  looked  down,  and  got  frightened,  and 
began  to  cry.    You  know  I  can  drive,  don't  you.  Aunt  Flo?" 

"Sure ;  yes.    I  know  you  can." 

"Well,  she's  a  scaredy  cat,  isn't  she?" 

"No,  Michael,  you  mustn't  say  that  of  your  sister,"  taking 
the  girl  in  her  arms.  "You  know  she's  only  a  little  girl,  and 
you're  a  ^reat  big  boy." 

"Uncle  Mort  wanted  us  to  go  into  the  store  but  I  said  I 
wanted  to  see  Aunt  Flo." 

"Well,  you  know  your  Uncle  Henry  is  always  good  to 
you." 


602  FINEM    RESPICE    . 

"Yes,  but  I  like  you  and  mamma  best." 

"You  must  like  everybody,  Michael.  Now  sit  down  till  I 
get  you  something  to  eat,  and  kiss  your  sister  and  promise 
you'll  never  frighten  her  again." 

"Florence,"  said  Mort,  entering  from  the  store,  "hurry 
up ;  I  see  Scully  and  some  men  coming  this  way.  I  feel 
confident  the  two  men  he  expected  from  Chicago  are  with 
him — they'll  be  here  within  half  an  hour.  Where's 
Bridget?" 

"She's  somewhere  around  the  yard — tell  her  to  come  in." 

"I'll  tell  her,"  shouted  the  boy,  who  ran  to  find  the 
servant. 

As  Scully,  his  son  and  two  strangers  entered  the  store, 
Monroe  and  the  other  men  present  rose  to  greet  them. 
Henry  Mort  remained  in  the  background  behind  the  coun- 
ter. 

"This  is  my  father-in-law,"  said  Mike. 

"Pleased  to  meet  you,  sir,"  said  both,  extending  their 
hands. 

Stringer,  Bronson,  Roloff  and  Randall  were  each  intro- 
duced in  turn.     They  all  shook  hands. 

"Here's  a  Chicago  fellow,"  said  Mike,  turning  round  and 
looking  in  the  direction  where  Henry  was  standing,  a  grin 
on  his  countenance. 

The  new  comers  both  looked  at  him,  and  then  at  one  an- 
other. 

"Mr.  Henry  Mort,  let  me  introduce  you  to  two  of  my 
Chicago  friends,  John  Bert  and  Joseph  Phipps."  Long  be- 
fore this  introduction  was  complete  the  three  old  chums 
were  laughing  and  shaking  hands  vigorously. 

"Henry,  where  did  you  get  all  the  whiskers?"  asked  Joe, 
laughing. 

"Why,  it's  the  fashion  out  here,  it's  only  boys  like  you 
that  can't  raise  beards." 

"Aunt  Flo  wants  you  all  to  come  into  the  dining-room," 
said  young  Mike,  running  into  the  store. 

"I  see  your  wife  cominL'."  said  Bronson  to  Mike,  "she  has 


FINEM    RESPICE  603 

Father  Chadwick  with  her."  A  carriage  drove  up  to  the 
door,  his  reverence,  Mrs.  Scully  and  her  daughter  Anas- 
tasia  got  out. 

"Mrs.  Scully,  let  me  introduce  you  to  two  young  gentle- 
men I  was  expecting.    Mr.  Bert,  Mr.  Phipps,  my  wife." 

The  men  bowed  as  Mrs.  Scully  welcomed  them  to  Mon- 
tana. 

"Bye-the-bye,  Father  Chadwick,  those  are  two  more  of 
your  kind,"  said  Mike,  laughing 

"I  am  glad  to  know  it.  If  they're  only  half  as  zealous  in 
behalf  of  the  church  as  Mr.  Mort,  they're  doubly  welcome." 

Bert  and  Phipps  looked  at  Mort. 

"Well,  come,"  said  Mort,  "let  us  adjourn.  The  missus 
is  waiting  for  us." 

"Are  we  also  invited?"  inquired  Father  Chadwick. 

"Sure ;  come  along,"  said  Mrs.  Scully,  laughing.  "We'll 
invite  ourselves," 

Bert  and  Phipps  were  duly  introduced  to  Mrs.  Mort, 
neither  showing  the  slightest  indication  they  had  ever  seen 
her  before.  They  both,  however,  recognized  the  handsome 
woman,  one  they  had  known  as  a  beautiful  girl. 

"You'll  sit  here.  Father,"  said  Mrs-.  Mort,  pointing  to  a 
chair  at  the  head  of  the  table.  "You,  Mr.  Monroe,  Stringer, 
Rolofif  and  Randall,  will  sit  next  to  his  reverence ;  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Scully,  you  and  the  two  boys  will  please  sit  here," 
pointing  to  the  foot  of  the  table.  "Henry,  you  sit  beside 
your  two  friends ;  'Stasia  and  Virgie,  you  sit  with  me." 
When  all  were  placed  Father  Chadwick  rose  and  said  grace, 
asking  divine  providence  to  bestow  his  blessing  on  all  as- 
sembled. At  the  conclusion  of  his  prayer,  Michael  Scully, 
with  bowed  head,  solemnly  said, 

Kmtn 


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